


By Fairest Blood

by WanderingHobbit



Category: Being Human (UK), The Almighty Johnsons
Genre: Colin is her brother, Dawn is the daughter of a Lord, I think this would classify as a slow burn?, M/M, Michele is the dark queen, Mitchell is obviously the Huntsman, Prince Anders, Snow White and the Huntsman AU, and George is his best mate who helps him on the journey, and his best friend, eventual Britchell, tags will be updated as the story goes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-08-22 22:06:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 36,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8302943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WanderingHobbit/pseuds/WanderingHobbit
Summary: A Mitchers Snow White and the Huntsman AU that nobody wanted but I decided to write anyways!The Huntsman is ordered to find Prince Anders and bring him back to the Queen. Instead, he rescues him from those who wish him harm. He becomes the Prince's protector and mentor of sorts as they go on a quest to defeat the evil that is known as Queen Michele.





	1. The Bane of Kings

Once upon a time, in mid spring, a lovely Queen was admiring the flowers in bloom in the castle garden when she noticed something odd. A rare rose was growing in defiance to the ones surrounding it. It was a startling shade of blue, the color of both the sky and ocean alike. So different from the blood red of its brethren.

 

In a newly blossoming tree nearby, a beautiful black raven looks on as the Queen gazes at the blue rose. Reaching for it, she pricks her finger and three drops of blood fall only to mix with a puddle of rainwater leftover from the early morning rain. Somewhat startled, the Queen draws back and gently rests her hand upon her flat stomach.

 

And because the red of her blood mingled with the water beneath her feet, she thought, ‘If only I had a child as free spirited and lively as the river, eyes as blue as the rose, hair the golden color of the sun, and all the cleverness of the raven.

 

The Queen sighed, and continued on her way through the garden, hoping with all her might that the gods would bless her with a child. 

 

—————

 

Only a few short years later, the Queen gets her wish. She is in her chambers, surrounded by midwives and physicians as her husband, the King, paces the corridors anxiously outside her door. Everyone is bustling around her, calling out instructions to one another and to her, but she does not listen, cannot hear them.

 

Soon, the air is filled with the first cries of a newborn babe. The Queen holds her arms out for her child. A midwife hands the now bundled baby to the new mother. With shaky hands, she pulls the blanket back from the baby’s face.

 

A boy. She has a son.

 

She sends the midwife off to find the King. And when he steps foot into his wife’s chambers once more, it’s to see her holding their son in her arms. He looks at her, notices she is pale and shaken, but smiling so brightly, so radiantly. The King slowly walks to the bed and looks down at his heir. His wife hands their son over to him, and the King gently cradles the boy in his arms as he turns away towards the fire. The child’s downy hair is a golden blond, the father notes, and his eyes the same bright blue of all newborns.

 

They name him Anders.

 

—————

 

 

Young Anders was adored throughout the kingdom as much for his defiant spirit as for his beauty. 

 

He was just as his mother had dreamed all those years ago in the castle gardens. His hair was the color of the sun, a bright gold gleaming in the light. And his eyes were a stunning shade of blue, almost identical to that of the rose that had so entranced his mother before. He was a lively boy, so full of laughter and love and hope. He was carefree, yet sensitive to those around him. And he was clever. All his tutors praised him and predicted that his reign would be all the more prosperous for it. 

 

But he was still just a boy, a child. And all children form friendships with their peers and run around and create havoc. Anders befriended a young girl, the daughter of Lord Evans. Her name was Dawn. She was of age with the Prince and just as blonde as he, though her blue eyes were lighter than his own. They became the best of friends, and together they went on all kinds of adventures within the castle walls and the woods surrounding it. 

 

One day, the children were gallivanting in the woods near the village, when they stumbled upon an injured magpie. They crept closer to the bird and noticed that it’s little wing was broken. It was twitching in a puddle and frantically began thrashing the closer Anders and Dawn got to it. 

 

“Pick it up, Dawn,” Anders whispers to his companion. Dawn looks to her friend for a moment, then braces herself and reaches down for the little bird but quickly steps back in alarm when it begins to wildly flap its wings at her.

 

“It’s dying. It doesn’t want to be touched,” she says quietly.

 

The Prince ignores her and approaches the bird himself. He kneels slowly, and then reaches out and gently strokes the magpie’s feathers down its back. The bird calms down enough for Anders to scoop it up and cradle it against his chest. 

 

Both he and Dawn fail to notice another magpie high in a tree, looking on at the events happening below curiously. 

 

Anders runs, all the while gently holding the injured bird against his chest. Dawn quickly follows in his wake. The children sprint through the village that lays before the castle the young Prince calls home. The sun is shining and the meadows and fields are green, but the children pay no attention to their surroundings as they hurry on their way.

 

“Hurry, Dawn! Hurry!” Anders shouts behind him.

 

The waves of the ocean crash beside them as they run across the dunes, the sand gleaming gold in the sunlight, when they see the castle gates up ahead. Anders and Dawn dash past their favorite apple tree inside the castle grounds as they head for the royal wing. 

 

Anders bursts into his parents’ chambers, the bird still clutched in his small hands. The King and Queen turn to face the two children at the door. A physician and his assistant are in attendance, looking over the Queen. Anders and Dawn are far too young to notice the sad look in the eyes of the Queen or the heartbroken expression of the King.

 

The young Prince holds the magpie up for his mother’s inspection. “We found it in the woods,” he says breathlessly. 

 

The Queen gently takes the bird from her son’s hands and, after inspecting the injury, binds its wing with a ribbon from her hair. The King looks on sadly. Dawn watches from the doorway, only now just noticing how frail the Queen looks and how her hands shake slightly as she handles the bird. 

“It will heal with time,” the Queen says softly, but Anders’ eyes rest solely on the little magpie in her pale hands.

 

“I’ll look after it,” he tells her. His parents look on, hiding their pain behind a smiling mask for the sake of their only child. 

 

“You possess a rare beauty, my darling,” the Queen tenderly caresses her son’s cheek. “Promise me you will never lose it, for you will need its strength when you are King.”

 

—————

 

A few months have passed since the finding and rescuing of the injured magpie. True to his word, Anders had taken care of the little bird with the help of Dawn. Once deemed fit to fly, the children took it back into the words where they found it and released it. They stood side by side as they watched the magpie gracefully fly away, high into a tree and greet its friend. 

 

Now back at the castle, the two are sitting in their apple tree, each attempting to grab an apple to snack on. Anders picks a juicy red apple and offers it to Dawn. He holds it out to her and nods. And just as she’s about to take it from his hand, he pulls it away and takes a bite out of it, all the while grinning. Dawn playfully shoves him out of the tree but loses her balance as well and they fall to the ground in a tangle of limbs, giggling despite their scrapped knees and elbows. 

 

“You are so dumb, Andy!” Dawn laughs.

 

“At least I’m not ugly like you!” Anders quickly scrabbles to his feet and runs off, Dawn chasing after him, both children laughing gleefully. 

 

—————

 

In his private study, the King stands at the window, watching the children chasing after one another below. He sighs heavily, and turns back to his friend Lord Evans.

 

“My son will need your daughter’s friendship now more than ever before, my friend,” he says sadly. “And I will need yours.”

 

Lord Evans nods, and clasps a hand to the King’s shoulder. “We are here for you, both of you.”

 

Silence once more fills the room, heavy and sad. And neither man is willing to break it just yet. Instead, they turn as one back to the window and watch as their children tussle and wrestle and play. Happiness would be in short supply soon, and both fathers wished for their children to feel it for just awhile longer. 

 

—————

 

The following winter is the most bitter in memory, and not just the weather itself. Anders’ mother passed away after suffering from an illness for many months.

 

The King and Anders walk through the garden following the funeral. The blue rose is gone with the frost and the snow that blankets the ground. The King has his arm wrapped around his son’s shoulders, both are grieving. A single tear rolls down Anders’ face and the other mourners move aside, feeling what he feels as they see the open pain on the young boy’s face.

 

—————

 

A year has passed, and yet the King is still inconsolable and grieving. Taking advantage of this grief, dark forces begin gathering on the kingdom’s borders. Lord Evans has convinced the King of the necessity of dealing with such threats and they ready the army for war.

 

Once prepared, they set off. The army on horseback race through the forest, the King in the lead and beside him is Lord Evans. They slow down as they come to the battlefield, across the way are horseman in a line. The riders are silhouetted against the sun, faceless warriors, a vast shadow army. The King and his friend glance at each other warily.

 

“From what hell does this army hail?” Lord Evans sounds nervous.

 

“I cannot tell you, but I can say that it is a hell they shall revisit soon!” The King lets out a loud war cry, kicks his horse and rides forward with courage as he no longer cares what may happen to him in doing so. 

 

The two armies race towards the center of the battlefield and towards war. When they clash, it is expected to hear all metallic ringing, sword against sword; horses whinnying, men shouting in victory and crying in their death throes. In a word, it issupposed to be brutal. However, the King raises his sword and swings it at one of the Shadow Warriors and it shatters like glass. He looks around him and sees the same is happening to the others. The Shadow Warriors, when struck, are shattering and evaporating like mist. 

 

Just moments before the battlefield was loud and furious, but now it is quiet. The King and Lord Evans watch in amazement as the Shadow Army just melts away, dissolving into the morning mist that surrounds them. All that is left behind is a caged prison wagon, the spoils of victory over the unholy army that they had defeated. The King moves to the wagon with apprehension as he isn’t sure how it even got there. As he nears, the King dismounts his horse and walks closer, even daring to glance inside. 

 

There’s a woman, her face hidden behind a veil, cowering in the corner. The King stares at her through the bars of the cage, then steps back and breaks the lock with an almighty blow of his sword. 

 

“You have nothing to fear from me, miss,” he says gently as he enters the wagon. “You are now free from the unholy army that has trapped you.” 

 

Lord Evans watches from outside of the cage as his King kneels before the unknown woman. He’s a bit wary and suspicious. Who is she and why was she captured and imprisoned by a mysterious army of shadows? This didn’t sit right with him but he knew better than mentioning his fears to the King.

 

“What is your name, my lady?” 

The woman turns at the voice of the King. For a moment he absently wonders if it is his beloved wife and Queen hiding behind the veil. Slowly, he lifts the veil from her face and freezes. It is not his wife, but the most beautiful woman he has yet to lay eyes on. She has long, dark brown hair and wide, beautifully shaped blue eyes. Her skin is as pale as cream and looks to be as smooth as silk. 

 

“My name is Michele, sire,” she answers. 

 

The King is speechless, tongue tied, as he looks upon the face of what must surely be an angel. He was indeed so struck by her beauty that, for the first time since the death of his wife, he has forgotten his grief and broken heart. 

 

His gaze on her is so intense, that Michele looks away as it triggers a flashback of her childhood.

 

—————

 

 

_Michele was a beautifulchild, but poor as she and her family were gypsies. She’s holding a small hand mirror, staring back at her own reflection. Her mother, a gypsy woman donned in tattered clothing, moves the mirror closer so Michele can have a better look at her face._

 

_“This,” she starts. “This is all that can save you, Michele.”_

 

_The young Michele looks away from her mother, distracted by the shouts and uproar outside their wagon. Unbeknownst to her, her brother is quickly making his way as fast as his little legs can carry him through the snow to the wagon._

 

_Attempting to keep her daughter’s attention, Michele’s mother snaps her fingers in her face. “Michele!”_

 

_—————_

 

The King had taken her with him to the castle, where he had her cleaned up and dressed in clothes fit for a Queen. It had taken no time at all for him to fall in love with the mysterious woman. His wife all but forgotten as he gazes upon her face. 

 

Michele sits still as stone as the servants dress and prepare her for her wedding to the King. She looks even more beautiful as her cheeks are powdered, eyebrows plucked, and lips painted. She stares straight ahead, unblinking and mind elsewhere.

 

“You’re so beautiful.”

 

A small voice snaps her attention back to the present. She turns only to see Anders standing behind her, reverential. Michele’s face softens as she looks at the face of the little boy. She beckons him to her and holds out her hand. 

 

“Come, child,” she says softly.

 

The handmaidens withdraw as Anders steps forward. Only one handmaiden remains and she is weaving flowers into Michele’s long dark hair. 

 

“That is kind, child. Especially when it is said that yours is the face of true beauty in this kingdom,” she says as she holds his smaller hand in hers. Anders eyes widen, but he says nothing. Michele gives him a warm smile in return. “Would you like to dress up like your father and marry one day?” When he nods, she adds, “I hope you will invite me?”

 

Enchanted by his new friend, Anders smiles. “Of course I will!”

 

“I know it is difficult, child. When I was your age, I lost my mother as well.”

 

“You did?” he asks sadly. 

 

“Yes,” she begins. “A King tore me from her arms, dressed me in lace and pearls, and stole my innocence.”

 

The once bright smile that had lit up Anders’ face begins to fade as his confusion grows. Michele gently strokes his cheeks, almost like his own mother used to. “I can never take your mother’s place, but I feel that you and I are bound,” she places a hand over her heart, “I feel it here.”

 

Anders copies her gesture, and touches his own heart, then smiles at Michele. It would be a touching moment, but something in the young Prince’s face, the way his smile lights up the room, gives Michele pause though. She decides to ignore it for now and continue in her preparations. 

 

Soon, looking absolutely stunning in her white and gold dress, Michele is walking down the center aisle of the cathedral. All the nobles in the land are present to witness her wedding to their King. She looks at them, on either side of her, and they are all smiling and nodding in appreciation. Michele notices that they aren’t looking at her though, and she follows their gaze behind her to Anders, who is holding the folds of silk from her wedding dress. He looks up at Michele, adoringly. 

 

She reaches the altar and the King smiles at her, he is the happiest and luckiest man alive. The wedding proceeds, and Michele is nearly lost within herself during the ceremony. 

 

Once in the royal chambers some hours later, Michele has come back to herself as her new husband lies on the bed. He is drunk on both lust and wine. His eyes are fixed on her, in a sheer silk nightgown standing near the fireplace, goblet in hand. She starts moving slowly towards the bed, her eyes never leaving his, seductive. He licks his lips impatiently.

 

“Who are you?” he asks huskily, still gazing at her lustfully.

 

She cocks her head to the side slightly and answers, “I am the bane of Kings.” She crawls onto the bed and rolls him onto his back before straddling him and offering him her goblet. “Drink, my lord.”

 

The King takes the goblet from her delicate hands and drains it greedily. He then tosses it to the side as he gropes her body.

 

“Now you are mine.” Michele’s eyes are gleaming in the light of the fire across the room. The King attempts to playfully wrestle her off him but she grabs his hands and easily holds him in place. “I will destroy you.”

 

“Indeed you will, my Queen,” the King says, enjoying the power play. 

 

Michele rips open his shirt then bends down and captures his lips in a kiss. She pulls back and looks into his heavily lidded eyes. “As my people were destroyed, as my family was destroyed, as I would have been destroyed.”

 

The King is confused, and his face shows his sudden discomfort. But Michele takes no heed and continues with her story.

 

“If a woman can stay young for eternity, no man can resist her, and the world is then hers to do as she sees fit.”

 

The King’s eyes widen in surprise as he begins to choke. He struggles for breath, slowly turning red. “What…? I don’t…”

 

“First, my King, I will take your life. After that, I will take your throne.” She pulls out a dagger from beneath the sheets and plunges it through the King’s heart. Michele smiles as his blood spills from his body and over the dagger in her hands. She gracefully slides off of him and the bed and rinses her hands in the basin of cold water by the bed. 

 

She then leaves the chambers and enters the halls where there are several guards lined up. She moves past them, then turns to address them, “The King has laid down his sword for the night.” 

 

The guards do not seem to hear her as they are all entranced by her beauty. She smiles devilishly and strides away, disappearing around a corner. 

 

—————

 

_Michele’s mother takes her hand in hers and holds it over a bowl of white liquid. “You must trust me, my darling,” she says and she nicks Michele’s wrist with a small blade. They watch as three drops of blood falls into the bowl, red swirling with the white._

 

_Just then, Michele’s brother Colin bursts through the door. “They’re coming! The King’s men!” He is out of breath, chest heaving and face red from the exertion of running through the snow._

 

_“Drink!” Michele’s mother thrusts the bowl into her daughter’s hands. “Drink! And with it comes the ability to steal youth and beauty from whomever you wish!” Michele chokes down the mixture as she listens to her mother. “For that is your only protection in this world, my love.”_

 

_Colin steps forward, “I will protect my sister!”_

 

_Their mother reaches out and brushes a lock of hair from her son’s forehead. She then closes her eyes, speaking an incantation. When she opens them once more, it is to look at her son. “So it shall be, Colin.”_

 

—————

 

Michele makes her way to the front of the castle. She crosses the courtyard, a lantern held aloft. The portcullis opens and dark figures emerge from the shadows, entering the castle grounds upon her command. Leading them is a sharp-eyed man who looks at Michele devotedly. 

 

“Welcome, brother,” Michele smiles. 

 

The invaders are sweeping through the halls and corridors of the castle, running through the King’s soldiers with their swords.

 

—————

 

 

Anders is asleep in his bed in his chambers when he hears the ringing of a bell. At first he thinks he must be dreaming, until he hears the cries and screams of alarm. He sits up curiously and climbs out of bed. He exits his room only to see panic and chaos. Courtiers and soldiers alike are running in a desperate attempt to save their lives. Anders stares, confused and scared, and then runs. He rushes to his father’s chambers, but sees Michele at the end of the hall. He hurries towards his stepmother, relieved. That is until he notices his father’s lifeless body sprawled out on his bed. 

 

Colin and his knights appear, flanking Michele. Betrayal and shock sink in after a moment, and tears well in his eyes, but Anders flees. He races to the courtyard where Lord Evans knights are struggling to hold back Michele’s invaders. Anders hurries outside amidst the mayhem, dazed by the sight of the battle before him. He then sees Dawn pull free of her father’s guards and run towards him. 

 

The children hold each other, and strong arms reach down and lift them each onto the backs of different horses. Lord Evans and his personal guard try to ride out of the castle grounds before the portcullis closes and traps them inside. The Lord rides under with Dawn, and his bodyguard attempts to follow when an arrow from Colin strikes him in the back. Both he and Anders are thrown from the horse.

 

“Father!” Dawn shouts. “The Prince!”

 

But the portcullis is down, separating Dawn from Anders, her best friend. Anders rushes to the portcullis, looking beseechingly at Dawn, small hands gripping the iron bars hard. The last thing she sees is Anders struggling in the arms of Colin, being hauled back into the castle, as her father kicks his horse into a run.

 

—————

 

Michele casually walks through the castle, toppling statues and vases alike, and tearing portraits from the walls as she passes. She’s cleaning house, as it were. What with the King dead, she’s the sole ruler of the realm, and she so detests the decor here. She wrinkles her slim nose in disgust at the small portrait of the previous Queen at her feet. Michele steps on it, grinding the heel of her shoe into it for good measure, before continuing on her way.

 

She walks into a large chamber at the top of the castle. Skylights in the ceiling reveal the light of the moon and it pools on the cold ground. The new Queen stands in the middle of the room and admires her new sanctuary. Before he had been murdered, the King had the room outfitted to Michele’s exact tastes. She turns as a few of her soldiers enter the chamber, carrying a large object between them. They set it down on a stone dais at the head of the room before scurrying back out into the corridor at the sharp look from their Queen. 

 

A beautiful and ornate mirror stands before her, trimmed with gold and diamonds. Michele stares at it for a moment before she begins to chant.

 

“Mirror, mirror, on the wall

Who is the fairest of them all?”

 

A brief silence is all that greets her, but then the surface of the mirror begins to ripple. A liquid-like substance the color of mercury spills onto the floor where it then reforms into the shape of a man if the man were covered in a sheet. His body is a veil of reflective silver but his face is a distorted version of Michele’s own.

 

“It is you, my Queen,” the Mirror Man’s voice booms around the empty chamber. “Yet another kingdom has fallen to your glory! Tell me, is there no end to your power and beauty?”

 

Michele grins in response and moves to the center of the room. She throws her head back and laughs. The laugh is equal parts sinister and beautiful, and completely bone chilling. 

 

—————

 

_Child Michele screams as she is ripped from the arm’s of her sobbing mother. Young Colin throws himself into the fray but is backhanded to the ground by the soldier holding his sister. Their mother moves forward, ready to attack and rescue her children, but the guard holding Michele pulls out a dagger and places it to the young girl’s throat, stopping her mother in her tracks. Michele is dragged away from her family and tossed onto the back of a horse._

 

_“But be warned, Michele: By fairest blood it is done and only by fairest blood can it be undone!”_

 

_Michele looks back at her mother only to see her and the other gypsies cut down by the swords of the soldiers. Colin struggles free and chases after the King’s men as they gallop away with his sister._

 

_—————_

 

Michele stands at the top of the stairs overlooking the courtyard where all the wedding guests and nobles stand, held still by guards with swords and daggers drawn. 

 

“It is so kind of you all to stay,” Michele grins wickedly.

 

“What shall we do with these, my Queen?” the general asks, holding a woman still by her hair.

 

Michele eyes the noblemen and guests, her shrewd blue eyes sweeping left to right. Their own eyes beg for mercy, but none shall be had that night. 

 

“To the sword.”

 

Gasps and screams meet her pronouncement and the guards move the guests away. Michele notices Colin is off to one side, his own dagger at the neck of Anders, who is staring defiantly at the Queen. 

 

“Colin!” Michele shouts. Her brother stops and turns back to her. Michele stares at the little boy momentarily as she is not sure what to do with him. “Lock him away. One never knows when royal blood may be of value, my brother.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up, I have no idea how often this story will be updated as it's going to be a bit of a doozy to write. Hopefully it won't be too long in between chapters, so please just be patient with me on this one. (: As always, you can find me on tumblr! Look for sionnach-alainn. 
> 
> Also, I'll go through and edit this tomorrow. So if there are any mistakes, feel free to let me know and I will fix them soon!


	2. In the North Tower

High up in the north tower resides young Prince Anders. He has been there for years, since he was a child. Since his father was murdered and his kingdom usurped by the dark witch known as Michele. Anders is no longer a child, he is a young man. He is handsome, though dirty due to his imprisonment. Michele isn’t completely cruel, though; she allows servants to enter the Prince’s cell weekly to give him a tub of cold water and a thin bar of soap. It wouldn’t due for him to be filthy as he is a Prince, after all. 

 

Michele sits in the shadows, remaining perfectly still. Even though it has been years since she has taken over the kingdom, she looks the same. Her hair is still as dark as ever, no evidence of grey to be found. And no sign of lines or wrinkles mar her lovely face. She is gazing at Anders who is asleep in his darkened cell.

 

Around the corner is Colin, secretly eyeing his sister who does not take notice of his presence. Michele, just outside the cell, doesn’t blink for she is entranced by Anders. Strange. Then, the young would-be Prince opens his eyes and sees the Queen. This is not the first of these encounters. Their eyes lock. 

 

“Why?” he asks.

 

Michele doesn’t answer. Instead, she stands and walks away. 

 

—————

 

Outside the castle grounds in the woods is a man. His hair is a dark mass of curls and his face is unshaven. He is sprawled on the ground, asleep, and at his side is an empty flagon of ale. He is drunk. His eyes flicker. Suddenly, a scream cuts through the woods.

 

_Josie. Beautiful Josie, in pain. Blood blossoms on her dress, down her body. She opens her mouth as if to scream, but no sound can be heard._

 

The man’s eyes flicker once more and slowly begin to open. Then he hears it again. 

 

“Help!”

 

He rises to his feet unsteadily, his head pounding from a hangover. He grabs two throwing hatchets and slides them into the harness he wears on his back. He begins to run, shaky at first, but eventually he picks up steam. He runs past trees and ducks under branches, he crashes into a few as he is still somewhat drunk. He arrives at a clearing and notices a beautiful girl. She is attempting to fight off a large, tattooed man. 

 

A warrior. 

 

“Lay a hand on her and I will take your head!” 

 

The warrior turns and sees the huntsman has his hatchet raised and isn’t backing down. 

 

“Ale giving you courage again, John Mitchell?”

 

“Won’t take much courage to split your skull from where I stand.”

 

“True. But first you would have to be able to see straight,” the large man taunts John.

 

He advances towards him, a wicked grin stretched across his thin lips, drawing his own axe as he walks. John blinks rapidly in an attempt to clear his vision. Steadying his arm so as to aim properly, he pulls back and hurls the hatchet towards his adversary. And misses. The blade is sticking in the tree above the frightened woman’s head.

 

The man is on John in an instant, swinging his equally as large battle axe at the huntsman’s head. John just barely avoids the deadly blow, his natural skill and dexterity hampered by all the ale he had drunk previously. 

 

The young woman looks on, terrified as the large man drives John towards the trees at his back. Cornering the huntsman against an oak, he swings his axe, only for John to duck at the very last moment. The blade buries itself deep within the tree. It is stuck. John had lured the unnamed man into a trap. He draws his second hatchet from the harness. Instead of using the blade, however, he cracks the man over the head with the handle, knocking him out cold. He then goes through the man’s pockets, taking what he deems valuable.

 

“Thank you,” the woman says. 

 

John turns towards her, and only now can she see how truly handsome he is. He stares at her for a moment before approaching her. He gently lifts her chin, examining her pretty face. She doesn’t seem to mind, looking back at him with an inviting smile playing about her plump lips. 

 

“I don’t know how to repay you,” she says coyly. 

 

John continues to stare at her for a moment longer, then he suddenly picks her up and tosses her over one of his broad shoulders.

 

“Don’t worry, somebody else will, miss.”

 

—————

 

Back in the village, John and a slave merchant are haggling over the price of the woman he had saved in the woods. She is bound and gagged, sitting next to an old prison wagon full of beautiful girls like herself, all of which are looking furious. 

 

“Her nose is a bit large,” the slave merchant says. “And her chin is a little weak.”

 

“You must be blind, then,” John responds.

 

The slave merchant sighs. “I’ll give you three gold pieces.”

 

“After all of the business we’ve done together?” John scoffs. He goes to pull the woman he captured away, but the merchant interrupts him before he can.

 

“Five gold pieces! And that is my final offer, John Mitchell!”

 

John doesn’t even bother to turn around at that. “I think I’ll take my business elsewhere, thank you, Herrick.”

 

Seeing his prize disappearing, the slave merchant now known as Herrick, calls out, “Ten gold pieces!”

 

John hesitates, not from a guilty conscience, only he is considering the offer. He smiles and turns back to Herrick and they shake hands and exchange wares. 

 

—————

 

Back in the north tower, Anders is shaving wood for a fire. He has done this himself every day for years, since he was imprisoned. His hands work quickly and precisely as he stacks the wood and then blows on the kindling to spark the flame. The fire begins to burn and he warms his hands near it. Suddenly he can hear approaching footsteps, which is unusual at this hour. He quickly jumps up and curls into his bed, pretending to sleep. 

 

A guard opens a cell door opposite his own, and just a few seconds later it clangs shut once more. As soon as the guard has left, Anders rises from his bed and walks to his cell door. He looks down the hall to the other cell. 

 

“Hello?” he calls out. “What’s your name?”

 

The young woman the huntsman known as John Mitchell traded to the slave merchant that morning is sitting in a dark corner. She goes to the cell bars and looks out upon hearing Anders’ voice. 

 

“I am Gaia.”

 

Anders smiles. There is finally a friendly face nearby. 

 

—————

 

Michele stands in a black gown that is open in the front, being tended to by her maids. It is an inappropriate look when in the presence of Colin and her guards. They are all standing across from her, the Generals avert their eyes, uncomfortable by her near nudity. One General uses a pointer to make his presentation while yet another holds a map.

 

“There are scattered rebel groups on the very fringe of the dark forest, but they are causing little to no harm,” he informs his Queen.

 

There is a small table sitting in front of Michele. On it rests a bowl, filled with dead songbirds. She wraps her gown around her body as she approaches the table. Using one of her long, pointed nails, she plucks out a tiny heart and eats it as she listens to the reports. She is not happy. 

 

“And what of the Lord Evans?” she asks.

 

“We have pushed his forces into the mountains, my Queen. But his stronghold at Anseo still holds firm.”

 

“Lay siege to it,” Michele says dispassionately. 

 

Another General pipes up, “The mountains and fortress provide them with impenetrable protection, my Queen.”

 

“The lure him out!” Michele shouts. “Burn every village that supports him! Poison their wells for all I care! And if they still resist after that, put their heads on pikes and use them to decorate the roadsides!” 

 

The Generals nervously glance at one another and then to Colin, but he is of no help. One steps forward. “My Queen,” he is obviously choosing his next words wisely. “They are fighting back. The rebels are attacking our supply lines and robbing our pay wagons.”

 

Another General adds, “We have just captured two of the rebel leaders though. We will have them executed.”

 

“No,” Michele holds a hand up to halt the General. “I wish to interrogate them myself.” She then unties her gown and drops it to the floor where it pools at her feet. She walks up the steps to her bath and lowers herself into the white liquid. She submerges her whole body, including her face, in the thick, milky fluid. Then less than a minute later she rises once more, looking much like a porcelain statue. 

 

Having dressed again, Michele dismisses her Generals. Only her brother remains in the bathing chamber with her. A small songbird rests on the table, its chest open, revealing its tiny heart. Using her claw-like jewelry on her finger, Michele plucks the tiny heart and raises it to her mouth.

 

She is standing at the window, Colin at her side. Down below at the foot of the castle, a crowd of peasants have gathered. They are starving, and fighting over the milk that is pouring from her draining bath. 

 

Michele is lost in herself for a moment. The peasants’ plight reminding her of her own misfortune during her early childhood. The poverty, the hunger. The desperation. 

 

“I won’t go back,” she whispers to herself. She then turns to her brother. “Colin, do you remember when we were children, begging for scraps much like these wretches?”

 

“Yes, my Queen,” he replies. 

 

“Am I not kinder?” A wicked smile curves her lips.

 

—————

 

Back in the prison tower, Anders and his new friend Gaia are talking. 

 

“All the girls in our village were taken,” Gaia says sadly. “I was trying to reach a safe haven at Lord Evans castle when I was caught.”

 

Anders can feel the beginnings of hope bursting in his chest. If Lord Evans is still alive, then he is surely fighting against Michele to win back the kingdom!

 

“Lord Evans? He’s alive? He is still fighting in my father’s name?” 

 

Gaia stares at the young and filthy man before her, only just realizing who he must be. “You’re the King’s son? The Prince?” At Anders’ nod, she continues. “The night the dark one’s reign began, we were told that everyone in the castle was executed. How were you spared?”

 

“Dawn? What about Dawn?” Anders asked in a rush, seemingly not having heard Gaia. “Lord Evan’s daughter, is she alive?”

 

“I don’t know, my prince,” Gaia shakes her head sadly. The two prisoners are quiet for a moment when the cries of the other captive females rent the air. “What will they do to me?” she whispers.

 

Anders doesn’t answers, just looks at the brunette with sad eyes.

 

—————

 

Colin and the Generals snap to attention as Michele sweeps into the great hall, her long dress flowing behind her gracefully. She stops and stares at two men, dirty and grimy. These must be the captured insurgents. The older man is grizzled and looks bruised and badly beaten. His son, however, is unmarked. Both rebels stare at her defiantly.

 

A soldier steps forward. “My Queen, these two men were captured leading an ambush on our supply caravan.”  
  
Michele steps forward, eyeing the rebels, seemingly intrigued.

 

“You aid my enemies by leaving your home and family, by leaving the bosom of my protection. Why?”

 

“Because under your rule we have lost everything,” the old man hisses at the Queen. “We will not stop until this kingdom is free of your tyranny!”

 

Michele quirks an eyebrow. “Lost everything?” She then looks to the younger of the two. “Your son?” She walks up to him, eye to eye. “Very handsome.” Michele reaches out and gently caresses the son’s jaw, who struggles against the grip the guards have on his arms. “There was once a time I would have lost my heart to a face like yours, and you would no doubt have broken mine.”

 

Before anyone could register what was happening, the son grabs a dagger off a guard and stabs Michele in the chest. Her face twists in pain as she looks down at the dagger, then back up to the young man. 

 

“You would kill your Queen?” She pulls the dagger from her chest and drops it to the ground. 

 

Both of the rebels are shocked. There is no sudden rush of blood and there is no wound where the dagger entered her chest.

 

Michele tilts her head as she stares thoughtfully at the younger of the two. “You have beauty and courage, but how strong is your heart, young one?”

 

She smiles, almost regrettably, as she places her hand to his chest. He can feel his heart start to hammer, thudding loudly in his ears. He grimaces in pain as the Queen squeezes and squeezes, until finally his heart bursts and he falls to the ground in a heap, dead. The old man falls to the floor in an attempt to revive his son. Colin draws his sword, ready to behead him, but Michele raises her hand and stills him. 

 

“No, dear brother. Let this man return to Lord Evans and speak of the generosity of his Queen,” she says, her wicked smile back in place. 

 

With nothing more to say, she sweeps out of the great hall, followed by Colin. If one would look closely, they would see thin lines have appeared on Michele’s once smooth face. She falters in her step, but her brother is there to take her arm and prevent her from falling. 

 

“Are you alright?” he asks worriedly, only to have Michele pull her arm out of his grasp furiously. They both notice how the General and the other soldiers are looking on, alarmed. 

 

“OUT!” the Queen bellows. They all hastily make their way towards the exit, all except Colin, who is watching his sister with concern as she leans against a wall for support. She pulls herself together, then turns to her brother.

 

“Magic comes with a lofty price, sister,” he says quietly.

 

“And the expense grows.”

 

“You look…”

 

“Old?” Michele asks.

 

“Tired,” Colin denies.

 

“My powers…they are fading.”

 

This is as much as Michele can confess, even to her dearest brother. Colin watches as she walks up the stairs to her mirror chamber. He then turns and claps twice. A guard appears at his behest and Colin nods.

 

—————

 

Michele walks into the large room, her eyes on the ornate mirror at the front. She is afraid to look at her reflection, afraid of what she might see. Suddenly, Colin is behind her. She hadn’t heard him enter.

 

“I have something for what ails you, my Queen.”

 

She turns to look at her brother and sees that he has Gaia with him, her arm in his grasp so she cannot escape. Michele smiles, and Gaia holds her gaze, defiance writ in her posture and eyes. Michele walks over and admires her face. She smiles, coldly, and takes the young girl by the throat and lifts her right off her feet. 

 

Gaia opens her mouth as if to scream but instead of sound, her very life essence pours out. Michele opens her own mouth and devours Gaia’s youth and beauty. The fine lines around her eyes and lips begin to vanish, her beauty once again blooming like a flower. Gaia, however, is like a wilting flower. She ages until she’s as old as the scullery maids that serve in the castle kitchens. 

 

—————

 

Anders can hear the approaching footsteps once more and watches as a guard opens Gaia’s cell and tosses someone back in. The guard then clangs the cell door shut behind himself and walks away.

 

“Gaia?” he calls out hesitantly. He peers through the shadows, but can’t quite make her out. “Gaia?”

 

—————

 

Michele stares happily into her mirror, once more rejuvenated by her mother’s ancient magic.

 

“Mirror, mirror, on the wall,

Who is the fairest of them all?”

 

The silver ripples and distorts, and the Mirror Man pours out and takes shape.

 

“My Queen,” his deep voice echoes around the chamber. “You have defied nature and robbed it of its finest fruit. But on this day, there is one more beautiful than even you.”

 

Michele is confused and frightened. “More beautiful? But—“

 

“He is the reason your powers wane,” the Mirror Man informs her.

 

“He won’t live to see tomorrow,” she tightens her jaw, angry. “Who is this person you speak of? Give me his name!”

 

“Anders,” he replies simply.

 

Michele staggers a bit, shocked by the revelation. “Anders?” She calls out to her brother, then turns back to the Mirror Man. “I should have killed him as a child! He is my undoing?”

 

The Mirror Man nods. “He is also your treasure, my Queen. It was wise of you to have kept him so close for the innocence and purity that can destroy, can also heal. Hold his heart in your hands and you will never again need to consume the youth of others. Never again shall you age or weaken; immortality without cost!”

 

The Queen laughs, overjoyed with the news. Then Colin appears out of the shadows, and all he sees is his sister laughing, joyously into her mirror. There is no sign of the Mirror Man, it is as if he merely exists in her head only. 

 

“Sister?” he asks, hesitant to interrupt her. 

 

—————

 

Anders is pacing in his cell, frantic, when suddenly two magpies appear between the bars of the small window of his cell. He watches them curiously as they flap their wings, almost as if they are trying to tell him something. He moves towards them, but they jump back and up to the edge of the roof that is beside the window, practically hovering there. 

 

He is confused but then notices the nail jutting out from the roof, right where the magpies hover. Anders reaches a hand out of the window and touches the lose nail with his fingers. He wiggles it back and forth as well as he can at his odd angle. Bit by bit, it breaks free from the roof. He yanks hard at the nail and has it in his hand, when suddenly the two magpies flutter again and take off, as if afraid. 

 

That’s when he hears it, footsteps down the hall. With the nail hidden in his fist, Anders jumps back down to solid ground and throws himself into his bed again. Moments later, Colin unlocks the door, leaving the key in the lock, and walks into the cell. He merely stands there, staring at Anders, until the blond turns his head slightly to him. Anders doesn’t move, but he grips the nail ever tighter in his fist as he tries to lure Colin closer with his eyes. 

 

“Did I wake you?” Colin asks. When Anders shakes his head, he says, “Are you always awake when I watch you?”

 

Hoarsely, Anders answers, “Yes.” He looks away. “You’ve never come in before.”

 

“My Queen won’t allow it,” Colin replies. “She wants you all to herself.”

 

“I’m afraid of her,” Anders says softly. 

 

“Not of me.”

 

“No.”

 

Colin can’t help himself, he reaches out and touches the Prince’s arm. “It’s alright, Prince. You will never again be locked in a cell.”

 

“What does she want from me?” Anders asks.

 

Colin’s fingers move from the blond’s hair and down to his cheek. He strokes the skin gently, and then moves his hand down to Anders’ chest. With his free hand he slowly reaches for the dagger he keeps in his boot. 

 

“Your beating heart,” Colin finally answers. 

 

Anders grips the nail even tighter as he looks at the other man. As he leans closer, Anders notices the dagger gripped in his hand and he reacts. He slashes Colin across the face with the nail and blood flies. Colin grabs at his face, clearly in pain, and roars. Anders kicks him in the stomach and runs for the door, quickly locking it behind him.

 

He hurtles down the steps towards Gaia’s cell, keys in hand. Once there, he is shocked by what he sees. Gaia, now an old woman, looks back at him. He fumbles with the keys a moment, but Gaia reaches through the bars with both hands. The blond takes them and looks into her eyes. 

 

“Go,” she urges.

 

Colin stumbles to the door of what used to be Anders’ cell, still clutching his face. “GUARDS!” 

 

Anders tosses the keys into an empty cell, and with one last look at Gaia, races away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I got this out quicker than I thought I would. Hopefully I can do the same with the third chapter!


	3. A Life for a Life

Anders races down the stone steps and into a corridor only to see armed guards appear at the other end. He hurries into another hallway and slams the door behind him, bolting it shut before he charges down another set of steps. He bursts outside and into the sunshine. He pauses for a moment, taking in the feel of the sun, the fresh air, and the sky above. Anders shakes himself then runs through the courtyard toward the portcullis, the one that trapped him within the confines of the castle so many years ago.

 

The two magpies from earlier fly right into his face then take off, beckoning him to follow. He does and heads straight for a small opening at the base of one of the castle walls. It’s an entrance to the sewers. The magpies fly upwards and he goes into a slide onto one hip and plunges into the darkness below. The guards chasing after him can’t squeeze through the small opening, so they make for the portcullis instead.

 

Anders splashes his way through the nearly chest deep sludge, coughing and hacking at the smell of it. 

 

—————

 

 

Meanwhile, back in the castle courtyard, the same old rebel who lost his son to the Queen only hours before, is making his way out of the castle grounds. His son’s body is draped over a mule, the reigns held loosely in his fist. He looks back curiously as the guards are yelling.

 

“Open the gates!” the head guard shouts. “The Prince has escaped!”

 

The old man stares in astonishment at the pronouncement as the guards on horseback gallop out of the gate in pursuit of the escaped Prince. 

 

—————

 

Anders is swept off his feet as he heads towards the exit of the sewers. He falls over the side of the cliff and into the clean sea water below. He flails in the water for a moment, trying to get his bearings. His head finally bursts free and he gasps for air as he attempts to hold his head above the water. 

 

The blond Prince swims his way to the shore and looks up to see a large maze of rocks stretching out before him. He sets off to his right when the two magpies appear again, urging him to follow them in another direction. He scrambles after them and a few minutes later he sees a beautiful white mare waiting for him on the beach. She is lying on her side, allowing him to climb on. The mare then rises up and begins to run, Anders urging her on. 

 

A ways behind him the riders from the castle pursue him. He rides towards the village—it is unrecognizable to him now—seeking refuge. But most of the cottages have been torn down or boarded up. A group of people, including children, see him approach and move to greet him. They are skeletal, hungry, desperate. Anders stops his horse for a moment, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes at the sight before him. At first he thinks the villagers are harmless as they near him, but as they get closer their faces reveal a dangerous desperation.

 

He turns and gallops off. Looking back, he can see the Queen’s men are not far behind. The fields and woods surrounding the village are even worse off. Farmland has been burnt to nothing but ash and cinders, the trees all chopped down. All around Anders the world is razed to nothingness. 

 

Anders crests a hill, his mare rearing back as she sees the Dark Forest that lies ahead of them. It is a vast wall of dark and paranormal trees, sickly looking. A mist seeps from the forest, giving it an evil air. Anders hesitates but the riders are closing in so he urges his mare forward. 

 

Shadows are everywhere, surrounding them. The mare charges into a misty bog then suddenly loses her footing. She rears and throws Anders onto the safety of solid ground. He tries to grab the reigns but the horse pulls away, almost as if she doesn’t want to endanger his life. He keeps trying but the mare backs further away from him. They are slowly separated by the fog that swirls around them. 

 

As the silhouettes of the riders appear, Anders reluctantly turns and runs into the forest. When he looks back it is to see his white mare struggling against the bog and onto solid ground once more.  The riders are about to follow Anders but their horses also rear and kick in absolute terror. One of the guards is thrown off and is subsequently sucked into the same bog that the Prince’s horse only managed to struggle out of moments before. The guard’s drowning frightens his comrades. 

 

The two magpies are concerned for Anders but they are also too afraid of the forest. They flutter around the edge of the trees anxiously instead.

 

—————

 

Anders hurtles through the twisted trees. A ghostly fog is rising all around him and causes him to trip over an upturned root. He lands face first in a patch of large, sickly green mushrooms. The impact makes them release a cloud of pollen-like substance into the air. Anders coughs and bats the pollen away. But he has already breathed a lungful in and it is enough. 

 

He hurries on but the hallucinations are setting in. The trees look nearly human, like hooded figures peering at him through the fog, reaching out for him with gnarled hands. He sees owls without eyes, black oil oozing from the tree trunks. A hanging vine touches him, almost like it is grabbing at him, and he runs.

 

More terror rises out of the mist. Anders stumbles again and when he looks up it is only to see vampire bats raging and screaming at him from the trees. Large skeletal forms crack out of the sick looking bark, they descend on him until he finally passes out in fear. He is unconscious and prone on the forest floor, unable to defend himself from the imaginary monsters that surround him.

 

—————

 

Michele is pacing furiously, she is livid, her dress whirling around her almost angrily. She is fairly spitting as she curses at Colin, his face still bleeding from the Prince’s attack. 

 

“How is it an innocent young boy can make a fool of my own brother?” she shouts. “And only armed with a nail! If he had had a sword, he would have taken the whole castle!”

 

She continues her incensed pacing, her voice raising in volume as she goes on. 

 

“You swore to our mother that you would protect me! Do you not understand what that boy means to us, to me? This is my future we’re talking about here, Colin! This is everything. Everything!”

 

Colin looks on, cowed by his sister’s violent outburst and embarrassed due to his failure with the Prince. He says nothing, he knows better, knows it is best to let Michele rage and take her anger out now rather than lashing out at him later. 

 

“Is there no one I can trust in this castle? There is no loyalty to be had here! NONE!”

 

But then suddenly she stops almost as soon as she had started. She turns to Colin and marches right up to him and slaps him across the face. Hard. He staggers back a few steps and picks himself up, looking at her. 

 

He knows he had better start talking now. “He was chased into the Dark Forest, it’s likely he is already dead.”

 

Michele screams and slaps her brother again. 

 

“He is of no use to me if he is lost! I must have his heart! You have failed me, Colin!”

 

Finally, Colin has had enough and he erupts. “Have I not given all to you?!”

 

Unexpectedly his sister softens at this outburst and almost smiles. “Have I not given you all?”

 

She raises her finger and touches his face. His wound heals instantly and he calms down. He nods. 

 

“Indeed, my dearest sister, my Queen, you have.”

 

“Do not fail me again, Colin,” she warns him. “I have no power in the Dark Forest. Bring me someone who knows it well, someone who can hunt him.”

 

—————

 

In the village, Colin addresses a group of people that his men have assembled. “The Queen demands the services of someone to navigate the Dark Forest.”

 

The villagers stay silent, shaking their heads and looking anywhere but at Colin. An old lady speaks up from the crowd.

 

“No one dares enter the Dark Forest.”

 

“You will be compensated,” Colin assures them. But there are still no volunteers. 

 

An old man stares at Colin, however, and steps forward. “There’s one man, a widower.”

 

“Where might I find him?” Colin asks the man.

 

“In the tavern, drinking most likely.”

 

All heads turn at the sound of wood crashing and splintering. John Mitchell flies through the tavern’s wall and lands in a heap on the ground outside. 

 

“It appears he is finished,” the old man says, exasperated. 

 

—————

 

John is drunk and he tries to focus as the man he hit over the head with his axe in the woods approaches. He exits the tavern from the very hole John created when he was thrown and stands over him. 

 

“You owe me money from my pocket and for the girl!” Ivan bellows. 

 

“I have it right here, in my own pocket,” John pats said pocket. “If you’ll just help me up.” 

 

John holds his hand out. Ivan walks over though he is suspicious of the huntsman’s intent. When he is close, John grabs his arm and kicks out with both feet, aiming for Ivan’s chest. The taller man flies back and lands on his rear. He quickly pulls himself back up and strides angrily back to John and kicks him in the side. 

 

“I want my money!” he yells again. 

 

“Actually, now that you mention it, I seem to have drunk it all. You’re welcome to it when it comes out again,” John says sarcastically, as he nurses his sore ribs. 

 

Ivan then hauls him to his feet. He takes a swing but even drunk, John manages to dodge the blow, and swings back at him. All the tavern patrons have come outside to enjoy the fight now. John lands a blow to Ivan’s sternum, and he doubles over. He goes to swing again but misses Ivan completely. Instead his blow lands on a horse’s rear end. The horse kicks out its legs, sending John flying. He lands hard. 

 

Hands lift him up and drop him in a horse trough. He’s under water for a few seconds and can’t seem to find the strength to rise up, but another set of hands grabs him by the shoulders and pulls his head free of the water and John sucks in a greedy breath.

 

John looks up only to see the concerned face of George, his best friend. 

 

“What have you gotten yourself into this time, Mitchell?” he asks, though he’s sure he already knows. 

 

“Nothing, I swear it!” At the hard look from George, he relents. “Fine. I owe Ivan money. I took his captured girl and sold her to Herrick myself.”

 

George sighs. “You can’t keep doing this, John! You know Nina doesn’t like it when you trade women to the slave merchants. I can’t continue keeping secrets from her! She’s already suspicious.”

 

“She doesn’t need to know, George. I need to make money somehow,” John shakes his friend’s hands off, attempting to climb out of the trough on his own.

 

“I might be able to help you there,” a voice calls out. 

 

Both men turn to see Colin striding towards them. “The Queen demands your presence,” he addresses John and completely ignores George. 

 

“Can’t you see I’m in the middle of a bath?” John replies shortly. George snorts, but quickly tries to cover it up with a cough.

 

—————

 

John enters the throne room, still drunk and wearing damp clothes, filthy, and face bruised. He eyes the ravens that perch on the window ledges warily, then turns and looks at Michele. She is watching him curiously, but he is more interested in the old scullery maids, including Gaia, who stare at him with accusation in their eyes. Not having any idea what he may have done to offend the old women, he finally stands before the Queen. 

 

“You are a widower, and a drunkard, so my brother informs me. You’re also one of the only few who have dared ventured into the Dark Forest. One of my prisoners has escaped and made his way there.”

 

“Then he is dead,” John shrugs.

 

“I will not believe it until I see his body. Find him, and bring him to me.”

 

John looks uneasy at such a request, especially as it is given by the Queen. “I’ve been to the Dark Forest enough times to know that I am not going back. Not again.”

 

“Of course I would reward you handsomely,” Michele says offhandedly as she studies her nails.

 

“Coin is of no use to me if I am lying dead with the crows picking at my eyes,” the huntsman scoffs.

 

Michele steps down from her high throne and approaches him now. “There may be more than gold in this for you.”

 

John holds her gaze for a moment before asking, “Why is his life of such value to you if he is just a prisoner?”

 

“That is none of your concern,” Michele waves her hand at him, dismissing the question.

 

“I’ll determine what concerns me, thank you.”

 

The Queen merely smiles and moves closer to him. But John holds his ground and doesn’t take a step back, no matter how much he would like to. 

 

“You will do this for me, Huntsman,” she says. 

 

“And if I refuse?”

 

Michele simply nods to her guards, who all pull their swords from their scabbards. John eyes them, then turns his gaze back to the Queen, nothing but honesty written in every line of his face.

 

“Do me the favor, I beg of you.”

 

“So, you wish to be reunited with your beloved?” Michele asks him. 

 

John reacts without thinking, grabbing the Queen by the throat. The guards advance but Michele holds up her hand to stall them. 

 

“My wife is none of your concern,” the Huntsman spits in Michele’s face. But there is something about the expression on her face that makes him feel uneasy, almost as if she is enjoying his hand around her throat. So he lets her go. 

 

“My condolences,” she holds his gaze. “You miss her?” His eyes say it all, how much he truly misses his late wife. “What would you give to bring her back?” Michele knows that she has his attention now. “You know of my powers, yes? Well, bring me the boy and I will give you your wife.”

 

“Nothing will bring her back,” John says gruffly, but there is a sadness in his voice.

 

Michele looks him right in the eye, and she is incredibly persuasive when she says, “I can. Believe me, John Mitchell.”

 

He wants to believe, needs to even.

 

“A life for a life.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not entirely sure how long this story will be, but by my guess, no less than at least 20 chapters. Though there will probably be more. Anyways, I already have chapter four finished as well so I'll be posting that in a few days.


	4. Into the Dark Forest

Colin and John are riding side by side just outside of the Dark Forest, four guards trailing closely behind. The primordial trees loom just up ahead and the mist drifts around them eerily. It is cold and a feeling of dread steals across the group, but John pushes them onwards. He has a goal in sight and he will achieve it. For Josie’s sake. 

 

“You fought in the west?” Colin asks suddenly. “Against the armies of the five kings?”

 

John merely nods, gaze intent on the forest instead. 

 

“You must have seen a great deal of death then,” Colin continues, undeterred. 

 

“Death is everywhere,” John replies simply.

 

“Come now, you are just being modest! There is a difference between gutting a deer and a man, is there not? How many did you kill?”

 

“It is not something I counted.”

 

“Nor I,” Colin says, an eery smile dons his features. “But I do recall every face. There is no greater delight than battle.” 

 

John doesn’t agree with Colin’s sentiment, but prefers not to engage in conversation with the man. Something about him puts the Huntsman off, he just can’t quite place the feeling. George had told him to be careful and mind his quick tongue, warned him of the Queen’s temper, before he had been dragged off to the castle by the guards. 

 

“Come now, Huntsman!” Colin says jovially. “What is it you feel as you watch a man die? Are you delighted? Do you feel invincible?”

 

“Sorrow,” John states honestly.

 

This was not the answer Colin was expecting. But he continues anyways, “And what of them, do you think? What do they feel when at the mercy of your sword? I’d enjoy knowing.”

 

John looks back at him questioningly, but realizes with shock that from Colin’s expression this is an honest question. 

 

“The only difference between you and I is I never found a wife to save my soul.”

 

“Too bad,” the Huntsman replies. “You will need one.” 

 

He stops his horse now and nods in the direction of the trees. The small group is stopped at the entrance, less than 200 feet ahead. The guards are clearly nervous and they attempt to swallow their fears and keep their facial expressions neutral. Colin, too, tries to hide his own feelings. Even the horses begin to sense the danger that lays ahead and they start to whiny as they attempt to back up.

 

—————

 

Anders is still lying prone on the forest floor where vines and roots have attempted to grow over his body, almost as if the forest itself is trying to devour him. He opens his eyes and notices that his wrists and ankles are bound. He reacts in terror and begins struggling to free himself of the bonds. 

 

He knows the forest is vast and that his pursuers can’t be far behind. What he doesn’t know is what danger could be within the trees, stalking him, waiting for the opportune moment to leap out and kill him. He needs to free himself and get moving. And quickly.

 

—————

 

Colin and John tether their nervous horses to a sturdy stump outside of the forest and they stand at the entrance of the bog, contemplating their next move. 

 

“Do exactly as I do,” John warns.

 

He carefully places one foot after the other on the small, mossy stepping stones that disappear into the bog once his full weight is upon them. Colin and the guards catch on and follow him slowly, each stepping on stones of their own. 

 

Once safely across the bog and again on dry land, Colin makes to take a step forward but John grabs his arm to stop him. 

 

“Exactly as I do,” he reminds him sternly. 

 

The Huntsman takes a handkerchief from his pocket and puts it to his face, covering his nose and mouth. He then gestures for Colin and his guards to do the same. Once done, he begins to move forward through the mushroom field, pollen misting all around them as they pass.

 

John stops suddenly and bends down, spotting faint footprints in the dirt. He picks up his speed as Colin watches in open admiration. 

 

—————

 

Finally shaken free of the vines, Anders jumps back to his feet, sensing that he is still being followed. He looks up at the trees but sees nothing but vague shadows. The wind picks up then, like ghostly voices howling in the breeze. He is rooted to the spot for but a moment, then loses all sense of calm and bolts. Anders doesn’t know where he is going or what he is running from, he just knows he has to get away and find a safe place to hide. 

 

—————

 

Meanwhile, John and Colin and the four guards move through the copse of trees as quickly as possible. They can hear voices and whispers in the wind, calling out to them. John stops and looks around.

 

“Pay the voices no mind,” he tells his companions calmly.

 

One of the guards is leaning over a pool of water, cupping some of the cool liquid in his hands to drink when he suddenly notices a ghostly reflection gazing back at him. He stares in surprise, then leans in for a closer look. Out of nowhere a barbed tail shoots out of the water and skewers him through the chest before dragging his body into the depths with it. 

 

The others turn as they hear the scream of their dying companion, but their is no sign of him now. All that is to be seen is the rippling water. Colin is the only one who looks unconcerned with the situation. 

 

John, however, senses something and holds up his hand to halt the procession forward. He darts ahead aways, leaving the others behind. Colin takes it upon himself to follow the Huntsman instead of obeying orders, and motions for his guards to go ahead of him. They reluctantly do as told. 

 

His hunting and tracking skills coming into play, John stops and listens—hearing the cracking of branches in the distance. Quick as lightening, he takes off again. 

 

—————

 

Anders is anxious, he feels as if the whole forest is his enemy. He’s running out of breath so makes the decision to hide in some bushes nearby. He’s staring into the mist when a sinister figure appears through the haze. He catches his breath and holds it, hardly daring to move for fear of being caught. The blond Prince lays low, knowing whoever or whatever it is senses that he is close. 

 

John knows that his prey is near as he studies the forest floor. He sees the man’s footprints and looks up at the area of disturbed undergrowth they lead to. 

 

Anders is peering through the leaves when he sees the Huntsman’s boots approaching. He looks around for something, anything, that he can use as a makeshift weapon to defend himself. But suddenly the sound of his pursuer’s footsteps fades away and when he checks, he can’t see anyone anymore. For a moment he is relieved, but then a pair of strong hands grasp his legs in a firm grip and pulls. He fights to get away but is pinned down. 

 

John reaches down and flips his captive over onto his back. His first look at him gives him pause. The man is undeniably attractive, obviously full of spirit, and young. But his reverie is interrupted as the blond slaps at him. So John pulls a knife from his boot with one hand while he continues to hold the man down with the other. Then he lifts the blond man up and onto his shoulder.

 

“Let me go!” Anders shouts as he furiously pounds on the other man’s back with his fists. John ignores this and continues on his way back to where he left Colin and the three guards. 

 

“She’s going to kill me! The Queen!” Anders is pleading with him now, but is still being ignored. 

 

“Sure she is,” John says offhandedly.

 

“Please, believe me!” Anders begs. “Her brother tried to cut out my heart!”

 

That makes John stop. He looks back at Anders, who gains the strength to continue now that he knows he isn’t being ignored. 

 

“I swear to you, it’s the truth.”

 

And John somehow believes him. It may be the earnest look on his young face or the way his voice sounds shaky and scared, John isn’t sure. All he knows is he believes him.

 

“Nicely done!” 

 

John looks up at the sound of the voice to see Colin and his remaining men walking up to them. He can hear Anders’ small, terrified gasp at the sight of the Queen’s brother. 

 

“It’s him!” Anders cries. “He’s the one! He came at me with a knife!”

 

The brunet drops the blond to his feet, then tightens his arm around his waist, the other around the smaller man’s neck.

 

“Well done, John Mitchell,” Colin says. “Now hand him over.”

 

“Please don’t! He can’t be trusted!” Anders yells.

 

John glances down at the blond before returning his gaze back to Colin. “And what do you intend to do with him?”

 

“Why do you care?” Colin asks as he nods at the guards. 

 

John’s grip tightens again as the guards approach him. “If you want him, then give me what the Queen promised.”

 

“Now, now, Huntsman. I’ll admit you did your job well, but keep your promise and hand him over.”

 

“He’ll betray you,” Anders whispers. 

 

“Shut up!” John shouts back.

 

“He’ll kill us both —“

 

“I said, shut up!” He places his knife to Anders’ throat in order to get his point across. “I’ll keep my word when the Queen keeps hers.” This was said to Colin.

 

Colin shakes his head and laughs. “You are a fool and a drunk! My sister has many powers; she can take or sustain life, but she cannot bring back the dead. Your wife will remain in her grave!”

 

John sees red. He is angry for having been used and lied to, for having the promise of seeing his wife again dangled in front of him only to have her ripped away once more. He wanted, needed to believe that the promise was real. He was used.

 

“I want her back!” he rages. He starts slowing backing up, his knife still to Anders’ throat. 

 

Colin pulls out his sword and follows. It is four against one now, and he still has the prisoner to watch out for. They lunge toward him then and he drops Anders to the ground and in the same motion, he throws his knife at one of the attacking guards. It hits the guard square in the chest and he collapses to the ground in a heap. 

 

John reaches behind and grabs both of his hatchets and faces off with the remaining three. They all rush him at once, and he fights off the guards at the same time that he throws one of his hatchets at Colin. It lands in his chest. But just like Michele, there is no blood and no wound. Colin merely pulls it out of his body, laughing all the while. He throws it back at the Huntsman who ducks. It lands in a tree behind him. 

 

Anders is terrified, simply put. He races off into the forest and away from the skirmish going on behind him. If the men notice his exit, they take no heed and continue on with their battle. 

 

John is fighting on three sides, holding his own fairly well. That is until Colin manages to plunge his sword in the brunet’s side. John grunts and staggers back a few steps. Colin attempts to finish him off but the wounded man lunges and flips him onto his back where he lands in a grove of mushrooms. John quickly covers his nose with his arm and looks to the guards. They stare back at him then turn their gaze to Colin, who is lying dazed in the patch of mushrooms. 

 

Colin struggles to his knees and shakes his head like a wet dog. His sight is blurry and he is already starting to hallucinate. “Butcher him! Find the prisoner!”

 

The guards, who are also trying to cover their noses, move forward. John has a decision to make, and he knows he needs to make it quick. The odds for the outcome of the fight are not in his favor. It is three against one and he is injured. He grabs his knife out of the chest of the dead guard and his hatchet from the tree, then runs after Anders. 

 

Colin is back on his feet though he is still having weird visions pass before his eyes. He is stumbling about, trying to regain his bearings. His guards look on, spooked now that they are without the Huntsman who knows his way around the Dark Forest. 

 

“This isn’t over!” Colin shouts, and his words echo around the trees.

 

—————

 

Anders is still running through the maze of trees when a hand grabs his shoulder. 

 

John.

 

He slaps a hand over Anders’ mouth before he can scream and together they slide down a steep slope and into the thick undergrowth below. John then removes his hand from Anders’ face. At once, the blond punches him with all his might. The brunet steps back, and licks his bloody lip. Anders takes another swing but this one John manages to grab.

 

“Get your hands off me!” Anders shouts. He reaches for the dagger at John’s waist and draws it. He brandishes at him wildly, and John smartly backs off. 

 

“Get away,” Anders says lowly. 

 

“Who are you? And better yet, what the hell is going on?” 

 

“Get away from me.”

 

“Why does the Queen want you dead?” John asks.

 

“She wants all of us dead!”

 

“So why are you so valuable then?”

 

“You should know! You’re the one that is hunting me!”

 

Backing away, John begins to pace. “Never get involved in the Queen’s business. But what do I go and do? Get involved in the Queen’s business!” He throws his hands up, then turns and stalks off. Anders follows him, not wanting to be left alone again.

 

“Where are you going?”

 

“Away from you, darlin’. You’re nothing but trouble.”

 

“I need to get to Lord Evan’s castle!” Anders informs him. “There’s an army there. I’ll be safe.”

 

“Lord Evans? Are you serious? I’ve seen sheep with more fight in them!” John laughs. 

 

Anders is desperate, so he plays on what he knows of the Huntsman so far. “If you take me, you’ll be rewarded. I’m valuable, you said so yourself. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? You’re dead if you return to the Queen without me and I’m dead if you leave me here.”

 

John turns around, exasperated with the blond. “Just for argument’s sake,” he begins wearily. “How much?”

 

“How much is enough?” Anders returns. 

 

“Well, it is a long way, through the forest. And that is a dangerous road, so I couldn’t even consider it for less than thirty gold pieces.”

 

“A hundred,” Anders says quickly. “Deliver me safely to Anseo and I give you my word.”

 

“Who are you?” John asks, voice laden with suspicion. 

 

“Perhaps you should have asked the Queen that question beforehand.”

 

The two men stare at each other for a few moments, nothing but the sounds of the forest between them. 

 

“Do we have a deal then?” Anders asks. 

 

“I don’t trust you.” 

 

“But I’ve given you my word!”

 

John studies the blond for another moment, then spits on his hand. Taking the hint, Anders does the same and they shake on it. 

 

“I still don’t trust you.”

 

“I don’t trust you either,” Anders replies haughtily. He wipes his hand off on his breeches. 

 

They hear a commotion behind them, and John runs off, Anders following quickly behind him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter five is half done, so that will hopefully be posted by Monday. I'm cranking these out way faster than I originally thought!


	5. Of Magpies and Apparitions

Mist surrounds the two travelers and the tree roots all gleam with an eerie and brilliant light. Anders is looking around the forest, feeling unnerved by the dark shadows and the haunting silence. Not even the rustle of leaves in the wind breaks the monotonous silence. He focuses on John in an attempt to keep his mind off the terrors of the Dark Forest.

 

John plops down on a log, catching his breath. “We will stay here for the night,” he says.

 

“You have yet to answer me,” Anders reminds the Huntsman.

 

“I don’t recall a question.”

 

“Where are we going?”

 

John sighs, then picks up a stray stick and begins drawing in the dirt. 

 

“Queen,” he draws a crown. “Mountains,” three attached triangles. “Dark Forest,” a few wonky-looking trees. “There’s a village outside of the Forest.” 

 

Anders takes the stick and uses it to point at a different spot in the dirt. “I’m going to Lord Evan’s castle.”

 

John grabs the stick from Anders’ hand. “You’ll go where I take you.”

 

“Either you take me to Anseo or I’ll go alone,” Anders replies sternly. After a beat he looks around, suddenly unsure. “As soon as you get me out of the forest, that is.”

 

“You’re quite demanding and not at all endearing, do you know that?” John raises an eyebrow at his blond companion. 

 

“A reward awaits you. There’s noblemen, and an army there.”

 

“An army? Lord Evans fights?” John laughs incredulously. “He does nothing but hide behind his walls.”

 

“I thought we already had an agreement. One hundred gold pieces once I’m delivered safely to Lord Evans.” 

 

John makes a show of stroking his chin contemplatively. He eventually grunts in agreement. “Fine. You have a deal.”

 

Anders nods his head, satisfied with the outcome. He just hopes that this Huntsman will continue to uphold his end of the bargain. 

 

The tall brunet moves from the log he’s been sitting on and gathers leaves a few paces away to make a temporary bed to lie on for the night. Anders, seeing this, seeks his own spot but instead chances upon the ribcage of a dead deer, a host of lovely butterflies feeding on its carcass. He is shocked, and John notices. 

 

“I’ve seen far stranger things in here, lad,” he tries to placate the blond. 

 

Anders sits down next to John, eyes distant. When he turns to look at the brunet, something is noticeably bothering him. 

 

“Do you think they will follow us?” Anders asks quietly, almost a whisper.

 

“They would be foolish to try. Few survive in this forest.”

 

This is reassuring and terrifying all at once. Anders subtly looks around him, almost expecting some horrid creature to loom out from in between the trees and pick his flesh from his bones. 

 

“How far have you travelled into the Dark Forest?”

 

“We passed the mark a few miles back,” John replies as he opens his flask and drinks. 

 

—————

 

Over high mountains and low valleys is Lord Evans castle, Anseo. In the courtyard Lord Evans is comforting a distraught older man as grim faced commanders look on, the firelight dancing off their armor. The old man is the rebel whose son was killed by Michele the same day of Anders’ escape. 

 

“She killed brave Alwin with just her palm. And when she pulled the dagger from her chest there was no blood! She cannot be killed,” he sobs. 

 

Lord Evans has heard enough and turns to leave. 

 

“There’s more,” the man says before the Lord has the chance to stalk away. “The Prince has escaped the castle!”

 

Lord Evans is noticeably excited when he asks the soldiers around him, “Where is my daughter?”

 

—————

 

A massive fire lights up the night as a ball of flaming moss is throw into a puddle of oil. Dawn rapidly fires multiple arrows from her bow into a line of the Queen’s supply wagons. The fight is now on. A violent clash of swords signals the beginning of the skirmish. Her companions are just as wild and hot-headed as she is in battle. They are roaring and laughing with delight as the Queen’s men flee after only a few minutes of fighting. 

 

Once finished chasing off the last of their enemies, Dawn and her men make their way back to Anseo. She enters the War Room where her father and his generals are gathered. She is dirty and sweaty from her recent rendezvous outside of the castle, but no one pays her lack of cleanliness any mind. 

 

“You asked for me, father?” 

 

“I have news of the Prince,” Lord Evans replies quickly, his voice light with happiness. 

 

Dawn stares at her father, shock registering across her lovely features. “The Prince?!”

 

“It seems as if Michele has kept him all these years without us being any the wiser.”

 

“He lives?” 

 

“He has escaped from the Queen’s clutches and into the Dark Forest.”

 

Dawn turns to leave. “I am going after him!”

 

“We don’t know if he has even survived!” Lord Evans grabs his daughter’s arm, effectively halting her departure. “You have ventured beyond Anseo’s walls tonight, directly disobeying my orders. We are all that is left, Dawn. And I cannot afford to lose any more of my men.”

 

“Then I will go alone,” the blonde says, her eyes harden with determination. 

 

“I also cannot afford to lose my only child! You do not know the Dark Forest!”

 

“Then I guess I will just have to find someone who does,” Dawn pulls away from her father. “I refuse to abandon him a second time.”

 

Under the cover of sunrise, Dawn gallops away from the safety of Anseo’s walls. 

 

—————

 

Colin is eyeing a ragtag group of woodsmen who stand side by side. He is sizing them up, picking a new crew for his next venture into the forest. Unbeknownst to him, George is nearby, watching the proceedings intently. 

 

“Which of you knows the Dark Forest?” 

 

Ivan and another powerfully built tracker both nod. 

 

Colin points to four different men, Ivan and his friend included. Down the line is Dawn. She is dressed in men’s clothing, her hood pulled low over her face, attempting to look like she belongs there. Colin selects a few more men. 

 

“Load and prepare,” he tells the group. “You ride for a bounty into the Dark Forest. The rest of you may leave,” he waves his hand dismissively at the men that did not make the cut for the excursion. 

 

The men disperse and Dawn steps to the side, waiting for the right moment to make her mark. 

 

That moment comes as the group of men begin to ride out of the village sometime later. They suddenly stop as standing just up ahead is Dawn, she is blocking their path out. She calls out to them, “Are you in need of a bowman?”

 

“I already have one,” Colin calls back. “Away with you!” 

 

Dawn stares at him, unblinking. 

 

“I said go away, damn you!” Colin shouts, frustrated with the delay. 

 

Dawn doesn’t move. Colin then turns to the bowman he had selected. 

 

“Kill him,” he says. 

 

The bowman smiles sinisterly and draws his bow. But he isn’t fast enough. Before he can even let loose his arrow, two arrows strike him in throat, lifting him off his horse. He hits the ground with a dull thud, dead. Colin turns just as Dawn is lowering her bow. 

 

“I said, do you need a bowman?” Dawn repeats slowly. 

 

Colin studies her for a moment with a blank expression, then motions for his group of bounty hunters to continue on, completely ignoring the blonde woman in front of him. 

 

As they ride off in the pouring rain, another rider appears suddenly, once again blocking their path. It’s Dawn. 

 

“Clear the road,” Ivan shouts at her. 

 

But she doesn’t budge. One of the other mercenaries grins. He rides towards her, drawing his sword. Just as he raises it, Dawn unslings her bow from her back and loosens two more arrows at close range. The arrows hits the man in both thighs, knocking him right off his horse. Ivan then draws his enormous battle axe and is ready to charge when suddenly Colin rides forwards and stops him in his tracks. 

 

“Hold!” Colin says, as he studies the woman. “You’re quick with a bow,” he says to her. 

 

“I want to ride with you.”

 

“Why?”

 

“I need coin and you are paying well,” she shrugs in response. 

 

“Have you ever traversed through the Dark Forest?” Colin asks her. 

 

“No.”

 

“Then, pray tell, what use are you?”

 

“As you said, I am quick with a bow,” Dawn replies snidely, nodding to the man on the ground who is groaning in pain and clutching at his wounded thighs. “And unlike him, both my legs are fine.”

 

Colin considers this for a moment. Then he smiles and gestures to the man on the ground. “Replace him.”

 

Dawn nods, and Colin rides on. 

 

—————

 

Having seen all of this, George scurries away as quietly as he can back to his small home. Once there, he makes his way to the small hutch behind the house and opens it. Inside are three magpies, all cuddled together in a batch of hay for warmth. George reaches a hand inside and gently lifts one of the birds out. It blinks sleepily at him as he strokes its feathers.

 

“I have a task for you, my little friend,” he says.

 

He takes the bird with him inside his home and quickly scribbles a note on a small piece of parchment. He rolls it up tightly and attaches it to the magpie’s leg with a length of twine. George then takes the bird back outside where its two companions are now patiently waiting on top of the hutch. 

 

George sets the bird down next to the other two and all three look up at him expectantly. 

 

“Mitchell may be in trouble,” he says to them. “I need you to find him and give him this note. It’s for his own safety. Last I know, he was headed to the Dark Forest with one of the men I saw in the village just now, the Queen’s brother. But he is back and John is not which means things must’ve gone awry. Find him and be sure he responds. Nina is so very worried.”

 

The birds cock their little heads to the side as they listen, then bob their heads up a down and take off into the sky.

 

—————

 

The Dark Forest seemed to stretch on forever with no end in sight. Anders sighed despondently. He approaches a nearby stream and kneels down next to it. He splashes his face with the cool water first then attempts to bring a handful of the water to his lips before John interrupts him.

 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he says. At Anders’ confused look, he continues, “I mean, you can. That is if you don’t mind having your bowels rip apart.”

 

Startled, Anders quickly stands up and wipes his hands off on his trousers. He turns around and looks back at John who had previously been dozing lightly against a large boulder. John offers the blond his flask of mead, and Anders reluctantly takes a sip. He ends up spitting most of it out before handing it back to John. 

 

Sniffing the air, John abruptly walks off a few feet from Anders. He bends down and examines something on the ground. Anders joins him and all he sees is a long, brown pellet-shaped object. 

 

“What is it?” Anders asks his companion.

 

“Shit,” John replies, never one to mince words. 

 

Anders wrinkles his nose as the Huntsman kneads the dropping between his fingers and sniffs is. After a moment he catches the look of naked fear in the brunet’s eyes as he gazes around the forest and Anders finds that he is suddenly worried himself. 

 

“Stay here,” John says suddenly. 

 

He’s up on his feet once more, moving through the trees and tracking something. He can hear the wind calling his name. He glances around but sees nothing, so he continues on. But the wind calls his name again, and this time he pauses. It sounded like Josie. Desperately he looks around, almost wildly. Then suddenly an apparition of his late wife appears from behind a tree. 

 

“Josie?” he says in disbelief.

 

—————

 

Anders is back where John left him, but he can hear the Huntsman calling out to someone. Not wanting to be left alone and defenseless, Anders starts to follow John’s tracks, hoping to catch up with him before some mysterious creature catches him first. 

 

—————

 

Josie is holding out her hand to her husband. It is slender and pale, just as he remembers it. 

 

“Am I dreaming?” 

 

“Touch me and see for yourself,” Josie replies.

 

John shakes his head sharply and looks around him. He is trying to fight it, fight the urge to reach out and touch her, but he can’t seem to resist. Her beautiful face is drawing him in again and he finds himself walking towards the trees. 

 

“You weren’t there, John,” the apparition says to him. “You weren’t there to save me. I called for you, but you never came.”

 

Anders appears behind a tree nearby and watches on as the Huntsman walks towards a dark area where several sets of wolf eyes await. But John only has eyes for Josie and he continues to walk to her. She opens her arms to him and takes a step backwards, luring him to his death. 

 

“Why weren’t you there, John? But you are here now. Come to me, protect me now.”

 

“Josie, I’m so sorry, so sorry. Please, forgive me. Give me peace,” he says sadly as he takes another step toward her. 

 

Then—THWACK!

 

Anders hits him behind the knees with a hefty fallen branch. He lands on the ground and the blond begins to drag him away from the scene of his would-be death. He tries to fight back but Anders jumps on top of him and straddles his chest, looking him directly in the face. 

 

“She isn’t real! It’s an apparition, do you hear me?”

 

John slowly calms down and nods at Anders, who in turn gets off his chest so he can sit back up. The brunet is tired, the experience taking a lot out of him. He reaches for his flask only to find it empty, so he tosses it aside. John hangs his head, hands threading through his thick curls. He feels so lost.

 

Anders looks on, compassion in his gaze. John glances up and notices the blond’s expression, then gets up and stalks off once more. Anders races after him.

 

“Who is she?” Anders asks his companion curiously. “The one you bargained for, the one that spoke to you. Who is Josie to you?”

 

“A name you will do best not to mention again,” John replies tartly. 

 

He then tosses a knife to Anders, who, though clearly surprised, catches it, albeit a bit clumsy. 

 

“What is this for?” Anders asks, holding up the knife for inspection. 

 

“Feel its weight, shift it from one hand to the other.” Anders is confused, but does as told. “Now hold it, pointy end to me.”

 

Anders rolls his eyes. “What are you—?”

 

But John lunges at him then and Anders instinctively raises his blade in self defense. 

 

“Which is your lead foot?” John asks after he pulls back again.

 

“What?”

 

He jumps at the blond again and Anders puts his right foot forward, knife in his right hand. John begins to slowly move toward him.

 

“Now stay back as you are too small to attack. You’ll have to parry; use your opponent’s strength against him,” John instructs. “Raise your other forearm.”

 

“Who are you calling small?” Anders says, indignant, but does as told and John comes even closer. 

 

John ignores him and says, “Use it to block and deflect the other’s thrust. You’ll lose meat off your arm but you won’t die from it. Now wait until I am close.” He steps forward again. “Not yet. You have to watch my hands and not my eyes, darlin’.” He takes another step closer. “Not until you can feel my breath, not yet.” He moves right up to the blond. “Now.”

 

Their faces are mere inches apart, and John can see just how blue Anders’ eyes are and the small cleft in his chin. He admires the smaller man’s face for a moment before concentrating on the task at hand. 

 

“This close,” he says. “Drive it through your opponent, to the hilt. Now look me in the eyes.” Anders looks up. “Don’t pull the knife out until you can see the light leave his eyes.”

 

Eyes still locked, Anders whispers, “Why do I need to learn how to kill?”

 

John stares at him. “There is much you need to learn, darlin’.” He backs away again. “Keep that,” he gestures at the knife still clutched between Anders’ fingers. 

 

Anders nods. He is focused on John, looking at him in a way other than his instructor in self-defense. John turns around and begins to walk away. 

 

—————

 

A single blossom is flowering on Anders and Dawn’s once beloved apple tree in the palace courtyard. Michele looks weak and pale, and she stares at the small blossom distantly, just as she did to Anders when he still resided in the cell in the north tower. She reaches out and crushes the blossom in her hand. The look on her face is one of conviction. 

 

“Find her,” she whispers. 

 

—————

 

Colin nods his head slightly, being able to hear his sister’s command, even from such a distance. Their bond, connection, is strong. He pushes forward, the other trackers follow behind. Dawn is looking tense. One of the mercenaries towards the back of their group slows down, sensing something. 

 

Dawn is subtly watching Colin when suddenly a bloodcurdling cry rips through the air. The mercenary’s horse gallops out of the trees, his rider no where to be found, and a gaping wound in its side. Dawn and the others look worried, terrified, but not Colin. He doesn’t even turn around, riding on like nothing had just happened. 

 

—————

 

John is tugging Anders along behind him. Just ahead is a bridge which leads out of the Dark Forest. And beyond that is open fields and birds in the distant horizon. Anders looks relieved as he follows the brunet down a slope. 

 

Suddenly John stops and looks up. Anders does, too and sees three magpies circling above them. John reaches an arm up and one of the birds lands gently on his forearm. It sticks out it’s little leg and Anders sees that a small note has been tied to it with a piece of twine. The Huntsman gently pulls it off and begins to read it. 

 

Meanwhile, the other two magpies have decided to land on Anders’ shoulders and are peering at his face intently. Anders gazes back at them, confused. They twitter at each other as they inspect their new perch. They hop around his shoulders and his arms and flutter about his head. Anders giggles a bit at their antics. But stops at the sound of John’s harsh swearing. The two magpies tweet almost angrily at him for interrupting their inspection.

 

“Damn!”

 

“What?” Anders asks. “What is the matter?”

 

John holds up the small note for Anders to see. “This is from my friend George who lives in the village. It’s a warning. According to him, Colin has gathered a band of mercenaries at the Queen’s behest and is tracking us as we speak.”

 

Anders eyes widen in fear as he watches John scrabble for a bit of food to feed the magpies before sending them off with the note retied to one’s leg. He had scribbled something on it with his own blood from a small cut he made in his finger. The magpies fly off and the two men go on their way as well.

 

They hurry through a sea of mist towards the bridge when John freezes. 

 

“What is it?”

 

“It can’t be this easy,” John whispers distractedly. He reaches behind him and quietly unsheathes one of his hatchets. 

 

“This is the end of the Dark Forest, is it not?” Anders asked, fear lacing his voice. 

 

“Hmm,” John hums noncommittally. 

 

“How far is Lord Evan’s castle then?”

 

But John is ignoring Anders now, following tracks. He stops as he nears the stone bridge below, leading out of the Dark Forest. The two then hurry to it and begin to cross the bridge, John looking out for signs of trouble. They are barely half way across when suddenly the stones start to move behind the duo. 

 

A pair of yellow eyes open in the stone and slowly what was once thought to be a simple bridge begins to rise. Anders turns to see a huge creature rearing up, nearly twenty feet tall. 

 

“Troll!” John shouts. 

 

The two are then thrown off the bridge and land in the shallow creek below, among the carcasses of slain animals. The troll roars and goes after them, swinging it’s large stone-like fists. John grabs Anders and runs. But as the troll catches up to them, he shoves the blond out of the way and draws his other hatchet.

 

“Run!” he yells at Anders. 

 

Anders turns and flees as John lunges at the troll. He ducks as a giant arm sweeps over his head and darts between the troll’s legs. He hacks at one of the legs with his hatchet and the troll falters for a but a moment. Then it swings a fist that catches John in the side and hurls him across the creek. He lands roughly on the grass and groans in pain.

 

Anders looks back and sees John lying stunned on the ground. His wound is bleeding again, and he is now at the mercy of the very angry and very hungry troll. Anders hesitates as he is still terrified, but then runs back.

 

The troll is towering over the Huntsman, and raises its fists to crush him when Anders arrives. He is screaming loudly, like a banshee. The troll looks around, surprised. And so does John. Then the troll turns away from the prone man on the ground and begins striding towards Anders. 

 

He is standing his ground, fighting back the fear that is welling in his chest and throat. He pulls out the knife John had given him just as the troll looms over him. Anders doesn’t retreat though. He raises an arm like he was told in his impromptu lesson in the forest. 

 

John can only stare in shock as he watches the twenty foot monster tower over the tiny blond man.

 

Anders is staring into the trolls eyes when he notices something. He sees something almost gentle in its gaze and he suddenly begins to lose the fear he felt only moments before. The troll stares back, confused, then slowly pacified, until it finally turns around and strides away. 

 

John stares in disbelief at the scene before him and Anders likewise is rooted to the spot. He is confused as well, though strangely moved by what had just happened. John pushes himself to his feet, grunting in pain, and heads over, taking Anders by the arm. 

 

“I told you to run,” he says softly. 

 

“If I had you would be a dead man. A simple ‘thank you’ would suffice.”

 

John is seeing the blond man in a different light after the near fiasco. Anders stares back at him. 

 

“Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter six is nearly done so you can expect it to be posted in a couple of days as well. (:


	6. Smoke and Fire

They are at the marshes a few miles outside of the Dark Forest. John is wading through the sludge-like waters and Anders is following behind. John looks back at the blond, ensuring that he is there and is safe. He quickly turns around again upon seeing a shy yet amused look on Anders’ face. 

 

On the banks of the marsh, ghostly figures emerge holding bows and arrows. John looks around for a way of escape but everywhere he turns, more of the mysterious figures appear. He draws one of his hatchets when another person emerges, clutching its bow tightly in its fist.

 

“They say only demons or spirits survive the Dark Forest,” a female voice sounds from the hood. “So which one are you?”

 

John is unsure of what this woman wants, so he grips his weapon tighter and steps in front of Anders, intent on protecting him at all costs.

 

“Which are you?” he retaliates. 

 

“Neither. Perhaps you are spies of the Queen instead?” the voice supplies. 

 

“We are fugitives from the Queen,” John informs the woman. 

 

Anders now steps forwards. “We mean you no harm.”

 

The woman appears to stare at Anders for a few moments before lifting the hood from her head. Anders can see a deep, pink scar marring her otherwise lovely features. Then she smiles. She gestures for the two men to join her on the small fishing boat she and another woman are occupying. They clamber aboard and the women push the boat off the bank with their oars and begin to paddle away. 

 

Minutes and a few introductions later, a small village appears within their sights. It is made up of mud huts that are elevated on stilts to protect them from flooding. There are wooden walkways that connect the huts to each other and sturdy wooden docks for the boats. They see many women bustling about the walkways and conversing with one another and quite a number of children, but no men.

 

“Where are the men?” John asks curiously. 

 

“Gone,” the woman, now known as Ingrid, replies sadly. She paddles the boat closer to the village, and the two men watch silently. 

 

The boat comes to a halt at one of the docks and they all step out and onto the walkway. Many of the women and children come out of their huts to greet the newcomers. Strangely they all appear to have deep and ugly scars disfiguring their faces. The women watch in awe as John and Anders pass them by. They stare at the blond and murmur amongst each other, much to Anders’ discomfort and John’s annoyance. For some reason they cannot seem to take their eyes off him, and some are even brave enough to reach out and touch the sleeve or hem of his tunic.

 

“Why are they looking at me like that?” Anders mutters to the Huntsman.

 

“I haven’t the faintest idea, just keep smiling,” John replies.

 

A little girl by the name of Stacey moves away from her group of friends and offers Anders her hand. He pauses and gazes at the small child, trying desperately not to stare at the scar across her cheek. He takes her hand and she gives him a dazzling smile in return. 

 

A few hours later, John is sitting by the lake with Ingrid at his back, bandaging his wounds. 

 

“How far you have traveled, dear Huntsman,” she says. “And with such a heavy burden.”

 

Anders is sitting on a nearby dock with Stacey. The little girl is teaching him how to make dolls from straw. 

 

“I’ve had worse jobs,” John says absently. “And besides, he isn’t that heavy.”

 

“You mean to say you don’t know who he is?”

 

John turns to look at Ingrid, eyes narrowing slightly. “What do you mean? Who is he?”

 

Across the way, Anders is drawing eyes on the doll he just finished making. 

 

“My father showed me how to make them,” Stacey informs him. “But he is gone away now.” She then takes a stick and marks the face of her doll with a scar. “Here, she is finished!” Stacey happily hands the doll to Anders. 

 

“She’s very beautiful,” Anders tells her sincerely. 

 

Stacey smiles at him, then runs off to play with some of the other children. John appears behind him just then. 

 

“This place and these women make me feel very peaceful, and yet sad at the same time,” Anders says softly. 

 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” John’s voice is harsh, yet tinged with a sadness of its own.

 

Anders freezes, for he knows exactly what John is asking.

 

“Because I think it too big a task? Well, you would be right in that.”

 

The blond looks to him and shakes his head. “That isn’t the reason. It’s simply because I’ve never said the words out loud.” He then looks over at Stacey who is playing. “I’m not even sure if I believe it myself. I’ve never felt like a…” he gulps. “I was alone in a dark cell for years. I fought hard to hold onto my memories of better times. What my father looked like, smelled like. He was a kind man with strong arms and the warmest of smiles. He was more than a King to me; he was the best father a child could hope for.”

 

John is stumped, unsure of how he should respond. After a few minutes of silence, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small object. “Here,” he says.

 

“What is it?” Anders asks, studying the carving. 

 

“I have carried it with me for a long time.”

 

“What is it made of?”

 

“The antler of a stag,” John replies. “The stag is the most timid animal in the forest but it can be the bravest of all God’s creatures when the need arises. This is a protection charm. Or so they say.”

 

Anders and John stare at each other for a moment before Anders looks down at the small carving resting in the palm of the brunet’s hand. It is a stag, which amuses Anders a little to think it was carved from the antler of the same creature the carving represents. 

 

“Was it hers?” he asks quietly, as this is the most honest and emotional John has ever been with him and he is loathe to ruin the moment. 

 

“Just take it,” John says quickly. 

 

Anders gently picks it up from the Huntsman’s hand. He then looks John square in the eye and says, “Thank you, John Mitchell.”

 

“It is getting dark,” John replies as he glances up at the sky. Then he walks away without another word. 

 

—————

 

Later that night Anders lies in the bed that was made for him by Ingrid and Stacey. The woman and her daughter are nearby, the young girl sleeping peacefully. 

 

“She is so beautiful,” Anders whispers. 

 

“That isn’t a kind thing to say in these times, my Prince,” Ingrid whispers back, stroking her daughter’s hair. “We have sacrificed our beauty and looks in order to raise our children in peace here. And your sacrifice will come, too, Prince Anders.”

 

Outside of the hut is John. He looks back and through a small gap in the flap he can see Anders. His gaze lingers on the blond man for but a moment, then he sighs and walks away.

 

Back inside the hut, Ingrid and Anders are still conversing.

 

“You must be prepared, my dear. The moment for you to deliver that sacrifice will soon be upon you. Will you be ready for it?” 

 

But Ingrid suddenly stops, as if something has greatly disturbed her. She gets up and leaves the hut without another word. 

 

“What is it?” Anders asks her. 

 

“Sleep, you must rest,” she says kindly. 

 

—————

 

John is making his away along the perimeter of the village, looking for the path through the trees. He pauses, then turns. No more than twenty feet away is Ingrid, staring at him sadly. 

 

“How can you desert him? Especially now that you know the truth.”

 

“Aye, I know the truth. And that is exactly why he should be as far away from me as he possibly can,” John says tartly. 

 

“He is the only one that can save us from this evil,” Ingrid replies. “And he needs you.”

 

“Trust me when I say I am the last person he needs by him,” the brunet shakes his head. “I’m nothing but bad luck. Everything I have ever cared for has been destroyed.”

 

Ingrid gazes at him, assessing him thoroughly. “There is good in you, Huntsman. I can see it even if others cannot.”

 

“People have made that mistake before,” he says, then heads off into the night. Ingrid watches him leave, sorrow in her gaze.

 

—————

 

In Ingrid’s hut in the village, Anders suddenly awakens. He looks around, but John is nowhere to be seen. Then he smells the smoke and makes his way outside. He looks up to see burning arrows raining down from the dark sky. He can hear women and children screaming as they scatter and make their way to the safety of the boats. Anders is rooted in place, afraid.

 

—————

 

John is moving away from the village when he hears the crying. He spins around quickly and sees the fire lighting up the sky. He races back towards the village, and towards Anders. 

—————

 

Anders, finally coming back to himself, rushes back inside the hut just as a flaming arrow pierces through the hatch. It lands next to Stacey’s head, who is still miraculously sleeping. He pushes the girl away from the fire and grabs the arrow. He hears Ingrid scream as a mercenary bursts into the hut.

 

On pure instinct Anders stabs the man in the calf with the burning arrow and he stumbles, the flames licking at his clothes. Anders can only stare at the man, at his face twisted in pain. But Ingrid shakes him out of it and the three race out of the burning hut together. 

 

—————

 

Colin and his hired men sit atop their horses and scour the village for any sign of the Prince. 

 

“Find him!” Colin shouts.

 

Dawn looks around the burning village in panic, hoping to catch a glimpse of her long lost friend. 

 

—————

 

Anders is running with Stacey and Ingrid when suddenly a terrifying mercenary leaps off his horse and makes his way to them.

 

“Run!” Anders yells at Ingrid, pushing her ahead of him. 

 

He faces off with the mercenary and does as John taught him—he waits for the man to approach. When he is finally close enough to grab at Anders, the blond slashes at him with the knife. The huge man knocks him to the ground and is advancing when an arrow strikes him in the shoulder. He falls, revealing a young warrior holding a bow.

 

It’s Dawn. 

 

Anders stares through the flames, his expression a combination of recognition and uncertainty. It’s almost as if everything suddenly comes to a stop as he comes face to face with his past. She nods at him, signifying that she knows him. He stands perfectly still. 

 

Then Ingrid pulls him away and they move through smoke and fire together. Dawn begins to follow in their wake, a curtain of smoke swirling around her as she rides. 

 

—————

 

When John arrives it is to see the village being devoured by flames. He rushes in and pulls a mercenary from his horse and running him through with his own sword. As he makes his way forward he fights and kills two more of the hired men. 

 

—————

 

Colin is sitting astride his horse, basking in the glow of the fire, a wicked smile splitting his face. He spots Dawn in the distance through the flames, searching for Anders and rides toward her.

 

—————

 

Anders looks back through the smoke as he runs when suddenly strong arms grab him around the chest. He flails around, his knife in hand, but then realizes it is just John. 

 

“Come one, we need to leave,” John says to him.

 

“But we have to help them!” Anders shouts back. 

 

Ingrid sees Anders attempting to fight off John and calls out to him. “You will! You will if you go!”

 

John is holding him tightly against his chest, pulling him away from the inferno against his will.

 

—————

 

Dawn, atop her horse, is peering through the smoke and flames for Anders. Colin and another man ride up to her. 

 

“Have you seen him?” Colin asks.

 

“No, my Lord,” she replies quickly. 

 

Colin roars in fury, frantically racing around and looking for the Prince.

 

—————

 

John tugs Anders onwards, the raging fires from the village are lighting up the marsh. He can see a lake ahead of them when a figure suddenly appears. It’s Ivan. Grinning, the tall man unstraps his equally as large axe, eager to face off against John once more. John doesn’t even slow down, releasing Anders and unstrapping his own weapons. It looks as if it will be an intense battle, but as Ivan swings, John ducks and drives both of his hatchets into the man’s ribs, killing him instantly. 

 

He then grabs his weapons and slings them back into their harness and the duo escape into the cover of darkness.

 

—————

 

Michele is walking quickly up the stairs of a spiral staircase in one of the castle towers. She passes by an old woman who glances at her. Just a few steps past, Michele swears she hears a whisper, then spins on her heel to face the woman.

 

She gets up in the elderly woman’s face. “What did you say?” When no answer is forthcoming, she shouts. “What did you say?!”

 

The old woman merely stares back at the Queen, silently. She then shakes her head in answer. But there is something in her eyes, something that terrifies Michele greatly. She backs up, retreats, then scurries away as fast as she can.

 

—————

 

Later that night, Michele is sitting by herself in her chambers. She is naked from the waist up and her spine is seen through her stretched and taut skin. In front of her sits her crown, resting on a dark cushion. A matted chunk of hair is caught on the gilded edge. She stares at it, blankly and lost. Slowly she raises her hand and touches a bald patch at the side of her head. Her face crumples.

 

“COLIN!” The word echoes around the room, around the palace. 

 

—————

 

Colin is still surrounded by the smoke and fire of the small village inhabited solely by women. He is frustrated beyond imagination. He can feel his sister’s anger, her ire. Deep in his bones her hatred rattles. And he knows that he is not safe from her wrath. 

 

Throwing his head back, Colin screams to the skies in despair. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter seven is already done and I will be working on chapter eight later today. I know this chapter is short in comparison to the others, but the next one will more than make up for it. (:


	7. Into the Enchanted Forest

Far down the river, making their way onto the bank, are John and Anders. They are drenched and exhausted. Anders hands are shaking as he is distraught over the violence he had witnessed in the village only a couple of hours earlier. John looks at him, almost guiltily. 

 

“Why did you come back?” Anders finally asks. 

 

“I am to blame for I am the one who led the mercenaries there.”

 

Anders stares back at the brunet, eyes full of empathy. He can tell that John is in pain, too. 

 

“I will take you to Lord Evans,” John tells him.

 

Anders nods. John lies back on the ground, looking up at the sun and the way its light flickers through the leaves of the trees. Suddenly a shadow appears over him, blocking out the light. And before he can react, he is beaten with fists and boots alike. He rolls over in an attempt to protect his face and he catches a glimpse of figures donning battle masks. John kicks out and manages to fend a few of them off, but more just swarm him. They pin him down by the legs and roughly put him in a choke hold.

 

Anders isn’t treated with any more kindness than his brunet companion. Powerful bodies pin him down and he struggles to break free. He bites down on the arm of one of his captors but he twists the blond’s arms behind his back none too gently. 

 

A noose is slung around John’s ankles and he is unceremoniously hauled up, dangling upside down. Anders, who is also tied up, sits on the ground beside him. Both are thrashing, trying to throw off their bonds and escape. 

 

A line of dwarves stand before them, pulling off their hideous battle masks one by one. The leader of the small clan glowers at them.

 

“If it isn’t the miscreant known as the Huntsman,” he spits. 

 

“Oh, come on, Mikkel! Is this how you treat a friend?” John wheedles. 

 

The dwarf leader, now known as Mikkel, narrows his eyes. “No, you moron! _This_ is how I treat one I call friend!” He smacks John roundly with a thick and gnarled stick.

 

—————

 

It feels as if hours have passed and John and Anders are still strung up like chickens at the slaughter. The dwarves are grouped together, arguing amongst themselves and throwing angry glances at John every so often. As they bicker, the dwarves hurl insults and profanities at one another. Not the most civilized of creatures, to be sure. 

 

“What did you do to them?” Anders whispers accusingly. 

 

“Nothing really. Only I attempted to collect the bounty on their heads. A few times.”

 

Anders rolls his eyes. “Is there anyone you haven’t wronged, John?”

 

John looks at him, face open and honest. “You,” he says. 

 

Anders can feel his breath hitch in his chest, and a warm and pleasant feeling makes its way through his body. His face flushes slightly and he turns his head away to avoid facing John. 

 

“Shut your mouth, you wanker,” one of the dwarves shouts. 

 

The little conference they were having breaks up and the dwarves approach their prisoners. 

 

“What a lucky day for me,” Mikkel begins. “The idiot I loathe the very most in this cruel world just happens to land on my lap.”

 

“Indeed it is your lucky day, Mike,” the Huntsman says. “I’ve got enough gold to keep you drunk on ale for a year! Now if you’ll just cut me down and I’ll—“

 

Derrick, Mikkel’s right hand man and fervent dwarf supremacist, cuffs John upside the side. “Shut your ugly mug, John Mitchell. If you had even a penny, it would’ve fallen out of your filthy pockets by now!”

 

“Yes, but you see, it is hidden. In the woods, back there a short distance,” John tells him.

 

The dwarves don’t like the insinuated short joke. Derrick slaps him again. 

 

“Pull another one, you lying rabbit,” he says angrily.

 

“Just tell them the truth, John,” Anders pleads with him.

 

The youngest of the dwarves and one of two females, Eva, is smiling at Anders happily. 

 

Anders looks back at her. “What are looking at?”

 

“Nothing, sir,” she says blithely. “It’s just you be the most handsome thing I ever did see.”

 

She smiles sweetly, completely disarming the blond. Anders looks curiously at the other dwarves now, and notices one who looks perpetually stoned, and the other female sitting next to him, gazing back at Anders. 

 

“Will you be so kind as to tell me what I’ve done wrong?” John is practically whining now.

 

Mikkel snorts. “Tell me what you’ve done right first.”

 

“I saved this man from the Queen. Out of the goodness of my heart,” John replies simply. 

 

Anders gives him an incredulous look, and John quells it with a sharp glance of his own. 

 

“Doesn’t sound like you, Huntsman,” Mikkel retorts. 

 

John shrugs as best he can upside down. “People change.”

 

“People, yes. Rabbits, no,” Derrick says harshly and smacks John again. 

 

Anders is beginning to wonder what this dwarf’s issue with rabbits is about as he tends to use the word insultingly. He mentally shakes himself as he is pulled back into the matter at hand as the sound of the stoned’s dwarf’s voice. 

 

“Suzie?” 

 

The blonde female named Suzie jumps up and helps her father as he clumsily makes his way towards Anders. He touches the blond man’s face and something strange happens. The dwarf’s entire demeanor softens and his lips stretch into a wide smile. 

 

“So what’s the verdict?” This is from another dwarf.

 

“I say we leave ‘em to rot,” replies a dark-haired dwarf. 

 

“Or we could skewer him and just leave her to rot,” pipes up a third. He has a sort of dumb look about his face, something Anders can't quite place.

 

The second one shrugs, then says, “That would work, too, but my way is much cleaner, Axl.” 

 

“No!” Olaf, the stoned dwarf, shouts. After a beat of silence, he continues, “He is destined.”

 

The dwarves trade looks with one another. Olaf is considered to be spiritual and none of them would dare speak against him, not even Mikkel. 

 

“Destined?” The one called Zeb looks stupidly confused at this. 

 

Eva, who is gazing longingly at Anders, says, “He is.”

 

“Are you?” asks Mikkel, staring curiously at Anders now.

 

Rolling his response over in his mind for a moment, Anders noticeably gathers his strength before responding. “Do you hate the Queen?”

 

“Hate is a strong word,” Mikkel strokes his chin. “But in this case, not strong enough.”

 

Relief floods through Anders at those words. “My father was King Johann.”

 

The dwarves are now impressed and all are gazing at Anders with rapt attention. 

 

“No one ever listens to me,” Olaf mutters to himself. 

 

“That’s because you’re always high off those damned mushrooms of yours,” Tyrone quips. 

 

“They are for spiritual reasons, Ty! I can’t read the prophecies without them!” 

 

Anders turns back to Mikkel, ignoring the spat between the ones called Tyrone and Olaf. “If you accompany us to Anseo, I can assure you that you will be well rewarded.”

 

“We don’t need their help,” John tells him gruffly. 

 

“You were already lost if you found us,” Mikkel informs the duo. 

 

Zeb is still looking intently at Anders. “How much?”

 

“Your weight in gold. Each of you,” Anders says confidently, shoulders back and head held high. 

 

The dwarves trade glances once again, literally sizing each other up in their estimation of how much treasure each will receive. 

 

“What?” John turns on Anders. “That’s far more than you offered me!”

 

“Out of the goodness of your heart, was it, Huntsman?” Mikkel snorts. 

 

In the background, Axl and Tyrone are whispering furiously. “I get more than you,” Axl says to his companion. 

 

“True,” Tyrone concedes. “But because of your size, you eat and drink more, which ultimately costs more. So who’s the real winner here?”

 

Ignoring the others, Mikkel turns to Anders. “Alright. We will take you, but John Mitchell can hang—“

 

“No,” Anders cuts him off. “Both of us or no deal.”

 

John looks somewhat surprised at the blond’s loyalty, as do the dwarves. But the moment is interrupted by Axl shouting a warning at them. 

 

“Riders!”

 

The dwarves all turn only to see a dozen mercenaries on horses silhouetted on the crest of a distant hill. 

 

“Those are the Queen’s men, Mikkel,” John tells him. “Better decide quickly.”

 

“One of us can easily take on the lot of them, so I think I will take my time,” Mikkel says dismissively. But he pauses as a dozen more riders appear on the hill.

 

“You were saying?” John says smugly.

 

“Cut him down and MOVE OUT!” Mikkel orders. 

 

Derrick quickly cuts the rope and John drops to the ground in a heap. Meanwhile Eva gently lifts Anders to his feet and frees him from his bonds. John manages to right himself and he grabs Anders by the arm and together they make their way down the hill, the dwarves hurrying after. 

 

The group arrive at a rocky outcrop and Axl and Tyrone pull back a large root, exposing an entrance to a dark cave. 

 

“Ah, a short cut,” John grins.

 

All eight dwarves glare at him, quite done with the short jokes already. Anders covers his smile at the joke with his hand. It wouldn’t due to insult and infuriate the dwarves even more at this point. Then Derrick raps John’s knee with the flat of his dagger and the man yelps in response. 

 

With that, Axl and Tyrone lead the way into the cave and Eva pulls Anders to safety just as the riders appear. From their hidden vantage point, John and Anders and the dwarves watch as the pursuers search for them. Some continue on, but a small troop remain behind. They have no choice but to retreat further within the cave, so Axl and Tyrone signal them all to follow them as they continue on deeper into the dark. 

 

Bats are circling above their heads and Anders shivers. He can feel John gently squeeze his arm in a small attempt at comforting him. The dwarves are moving effortlessly down the maze that is the cave system, but the two men are forced to squeeze themselves through the small spaces between the rocks. 

 

They emerge from the cave only to see pure and unequivocal beauty in front of them. The landscape is a brilliant mix of vibrant colors and green moss glistening in the sunlight. The trees are tall and magnificent, the breeze gently rustling through the leaves. It’s such a difference from the Dark Forest that Anders has to rub his eyes a moment in order to assure himself that this place is real. It’s almost surreal to him. The air is filled with specks of pollen that float lazily on the wind and there is a calm humming noise that echoes through the landscape like sweet music. 

 

Derrick snorts in derision. “Blasted fairy music. Wish I had something to stuff me ears with.”

 

What is with dwarves and snorting, Anders thought idly.

 

“There is lots of moss,” Zeb says happily. He scoops up a handful of the stuff and moulds himself some crude earplugs before sticking them in his ears. Derrick catches on and does the same for himself.

 

“What is this place?” Anders asks, still mesmerized by the fairy music. He looks over at John, who seems just as dazzled as he is. 

 

“They call it the Sanctuary, my Prince. The Enchanted Forest,” Eva explains. “It is the home of the fairies.”

 

And enchanted it is. Life grows everywhere here. The grass is lush and green, the tall and proud trees are covered in brightly colored butterflies, the streams are blue and clear enough that you can count every pebble at the bottom. There are tortoises and foxes and rabbits (much to the distaste of Derrick), all living side by side. Exotic flowers of all colors attract fuzzy little bumble bees and release life-giving pollen. 

 

Anders suddenly notices tiny figures flying around the trees, nearly too fast to spot. Pollen is following them in long trails. Eva notices his distraction.

 

“Fairies,” she says simply. 

 

“Pests,” Zeb scoffs.

 

Of all the dwarves, only stoned Olaf seems to appreciate the beauty that surrounds them. He is enjoying the warmth of the sun on his face and the breeze against his bald head. 

 

“Set up camp,” Mikkel says brusquely.

 

—————

 

Seated among a small group of boulders, the dwarves sing an old ballad. Their voices are deep and soulful, rich and hearty. Eva is playing the fiddle. Tyrone and Axl are sitting away from the rest of the company, glaring moodily into the night. 

 

“That song takes me back to the battle of Glearnen Falls. A small horde versus an actual army. Nothing but pickaxes versus swords and spears,” Tyrone says grumpily. 

 

“Them were the days, friend,” Axl replies. The two of them smile at each other, then join in the singing. Zeb is obviously drunk and he takes another swig of ale and staggers over to Eva. 

 

“Play louder, you wanker. I can still hear those stupid fairies,” he demands of her. He takes another pull of his drink and then begins to sing loudly and out of tune in a sad attempt to drown out the humming of the hidden fairies. 

 

Anders and John watch this with amusement. 

 

“Legend has it that dwarves were created to uncover all the riches that are hidden on earth,” John tells Anders. “Not only gold and precious stones, but the beauty in people’s hearts.”

 

“Really?” Anders asks curiously.

 

“In my opinion they’ve lost the art, if they ever even had it in the first place.” He leans back onto his elbows, the looks up at Anders and continues. “When the Queen seized their mines, she stole their treasure. But more than that she also stole their pride.”

 

Zeb and Derrick are singing together in the background, sharing a flask of rum between them. They tumble to the ground in a pile of limbs and swears near Olaf as the song ends. John notices the tumble and chuckles good-naturedly. 

 

“What’re laughing at, longshanks?!” Zeb shouts, indignent. 

 

“Nothing, half-wit,” John replies.

 

“I am half of nothing, you loathsome toad!” Zeb is slurring and swaying now. 

 

Olaf interrupts their bickering. “Suzie, sing the one.”

 

Perched atop her stone, Suzie nods. She begins to sing a more cheerful song. John watches as Anders gets up and makes his way over to Olaf. Before the blond has a chance to say anything, the dwarf speaks. 

 

“That seat isn’t taken, if that is what you were going to ask.”

 

Anders settles down on the log beside the bald-headed dwarf. Derrick and Zeb eye him warily. 

 

“Thank you,” Anders says to Olaf. 

 

“Tis only a log, child. No need to praise me,” Olaf replies. 

 

“No, I meant for before. For defending me.”

 

Olaf nods in understanding. “Your father was a good man. The kingdom prospered, as did our people, under his reign.”

 

“So there were more of you?” Anders asks, eager to know more. 

 

“Aye,” Olaf says sadly. And that is all he will say on the subject.

 

Zeb fills in, albeit it a bit reluctantly. “One day this group of dwarves before you went down into a mine for a month long shift. Normal. Eva was but a child. When we came back to the surface, there was nothing. The land was black and charred, and everyone and everything we knew was dead, gone. We searched, but…” he chokes back a sob. 

 

“That was the month your father died,” Olaf tells Anders. 

 

Anders, not really knowing what to say to the revelation, simply says, “I am so sorry.” And he means it. 

 

“As am I, Prince,” Olaf responds. 

 

Eva then walks over to Anders and holds out her hand. “I know I’m not the most beautiful to look at, sir, but would you care to dance with a little one?”

 

Anders smiles at her and takes her hand. “I would be honored, Eva.”

 

They dance together as the song picks up once more. Off to the side, Derrick and Zeb are watching the two. Derrick isn’t impressed and he leans into Zeb. 

 

“I do not trust him,” he whispers to his comrade. “And I don’t believe in him, no matter what Olaf has to say about it.” 

 

But Zeb is still upset. “Do you…do you think there are any of us left? Perhaps they were merely banished instead?”

 

“As long as the Queen is in charge we may never know the answer to that.”

 

“Maybe that’s the point, then,” Zeb says. After a moment, he continues. “I feel weird. Peculiar, almost.”

 

“Since when?” Derrick asks him. 

 

“How is your gout?” 

 

Derrick rubs his leg. “Better.”

 

Zeb then looks to Anders. “You don’t think it has to do with…?”

 

“How much have you had to drink?”

 

John, still where Anders had left him earlier lounging in the grass, drains the last of his rum when Mikkel approaches, sitting beside him gruffly. 

 

“Robbing us of all our rum, are you, Huntsman?” 

 

“Let bygones be bygones, what do you say?”

 

“Not yet, you lanky bastard. What’s in this for you?” Mikkel cuts his eyes at the man. “I’m talking about Anders. Is it really only for the gold?”

 

John is watching Anders dance with Eva. He shrugs. “I’m not even sure, Mikkel. If I had any sense left, I would have abandoned him long ago.”

 

Mikkel eyes John as he watches Anders dance. “Olaf says he is destined. The question here, John Mitchell, is for whom is he destined?”

 

—————

 

“You have two left feet for royalty, if you don’t mind me saying,” Eva tells Anders as he treads on her toes once more. 

 

“No, I don’t mind you saying so, Eva. I just haven’t danced in a very long time.”

 

He can feel eyes on him, and he turns around. He sees John watching him, a slight smile playing about lips. He smiles back at the brunet and breaks away.

 

“Do you mind, Eva?” he asks politely. 

 

“Not at all!”

 

Anders smiles at her, then heads back over to where John is sitting, and holds out his hand. 

 

“You taught me how to fight so let me return the favor and teach you how to dance,” the blond says. 

 

John looks to Mikkel for a moment, who nudges him. John stands up and the two men proceed to dance, with Anders attempting to teach the brunet. 

 

“Palms up,” he instructs him. “Head straight. Now look me in the eyes, and…”

 

John moves better than Anders originally thought. His face even softens as they enjoy each other’s company while they sway together. 

 

Mikkel can’t help but look on with a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter eight isn't even half finished as of yet but I plan on working on it some tonight. So hopefully it will be done and posted by Monday.


	8. The Blessing of the White Hart

George was outside, tending to his daily chores, when he heard the cries of a magpie. Looking up, three magpies swooped down low and into his yard, heading for their hutch in the back. George dropped his broom and ran to them. He pulled the small scroll of parchment from one of the bird’s legs and hastened inside. He remembered to throw some crumbs out of the window to the three birds in thanks before settling down and opening the scroll.

 

His wife, Nina, walked in the tiny kitchen upon hearing his clatter. She noticed the note in her husband’s hands and visibly brightened. “Is that from Mitchell?” 

 

“Yes, but he has replied in blood again,” George says distastefully.

 

“Well, what else do you expect him to reply with, George?” Nina rolls her eyes at her husband. “He can’t very well travel and hunt with quill and ink and expect them to keep for that time. Now tell me what it says.”

 

George sighs. “It says nothing. He drew a smiley face, in blood.” He rubs his temples in an exasperated manner, vexed with his friend’s flippancy.

 

“That is probably his way of saying he is fine and has received your message and thanks you for the warning. We’re lucky we got a response at all.” Nina kisses George's cheek before walking away to continue with her own chores for the day. 

 

George knows she is right, but that doesn’t stop him from wishing he had more of a response from Mitchell. He prays that his friend is alright and will make it back to them, alive and well and whole. 

 

—————

 

John and the dwarves are asleep. Flowers have bloomed around their heads, as if they have been sleeping for months, not hours. Ty and Axl fell asleep sitting up, back to back. They are constantly at the ready for anything. Olaf, however, is awake. His daughter is asleep next to him and he moves to brush a strand of blonde hair from her face. 

 

Anders is sitting next to the bald dwarf, looking around in amazement. He is drinking in the sights and sounds of the Enchanted Forest. Animals are emerging slowly from the trees, and Anders watches them with eager anticipation. Squirrels, beavers, foxes, and birds alike all make their way to the small camp the dwarves had set up earlier that day. They are gazing at him, intently and curiously. 

 

The night air is alight with mystical fairy light as the curious animals observe Anders. He can feel the light on his face and he looks up into the trees, trying to find the source of it. But to his surprise, he sees the two magpies who watched over him and assisted him in his escape from the castle all those days ago. He would recognize them anywhere as they were the first creatures to have treated him with kindness since Michele took over the kingdom.

 

Suddenly two small and lovely fairies, clad in bright colors and with beautiful and luminious wings, slip out of the bodies of the magpies. They smile brightly at him. As Anders sits up, they motion to the forest where a dazzling light is shining through the trees. Anders is up and walking to the trees and the animals that were gazing at him only a moment ago are now walking beside him. 

 

Olaf stares in amazement, though he is once again too stoned to do much more than that. The golden light from the trees crosses the face of Eva, and she wakes up with a start. She looks to Olaf in confusion, but then follows his gaze and she, too, stares in wonder at the sight before her. She then wakes the other dwarves as silently as possible and the whole lot of them stare in astonishment. John is the last to wake up, and wonders what all the fuss is about. The dwarves all rise to follow the Prince and John reluctantly gets up and goes after them, watching as Suzie assists her stoned father in getting to his feet. 

 

Beneath the giant tree that is emitting the brilliant golden light stands a majestic white hart. The very air around the creature shimmers with the same light.

 

“No one has ever seen it before,” Mike whispers. 

 

Olaf has gripped Suzie by the arm in his excitement. “It bows before the prince, father,” she says to him, amazement clear in her voice. 

 

The majestic creature lowers his head before Anders. The dwarves faces are lit up in the golden light and it dances merrily across Olaf’s bald head. 

 

“It is blessing him,” he says reverently. 

 

John glances at him, confusion evident in his features. “What are you talking about?”

 

“You have eyes, Huntsman, but you do not see. You have been with him the longest.”

 

John still doesn’t understand, so Olaf continues.

 

“He is life itself. He will heal the land. He is the one we’ve been waiting for.”

 

“So you are saying that he is destined?” Zeb asks. 

 

Olaf heaves a very large put upon sigh. “No one ever listens to me.” Suzie smiles at him. “Can’t you feel it, you fools? Are your ailments not gone? Whether or not there is gold, I will follow him.”

 

“Yes!” Eva agrees heartily. 

 

The other dwarves trade looks and Derrick shrugs. They watch as Anders makes his way to the white hart and strokes its neck. The golden light then brightens and engulfs him. The moment is peaceful and full of hope. But even that is ruined.

 

An arrow whistles through the air and buries itself in the hide of the white hart. It roars in pain and bolts, away from the danger. The fairies and the animals scatter as well, afraid as their sanctuary has been violated by the mercenaries. John looks up and sees two of Colin’s men emerging through the trees on horseback. One is notching another arrow to his bow. 

 

Shadows are spreading where there once was light as a fierce wind whips through the Enchanted Forest. John sees Colin now. He is also on horseback, looking for all the world like a demon god in the gathering darkness.

 

John grabs for his hatchets and the dwarves also grab for their weapons, pulling on their battle masks as well. 

 

Dawn emerges through the trees and sees one of the mercenaries aiming his bow at Anders. She rides hard at his horse and knocks him off balance just as he tries to fire his arrow. It misses just narrowly and thuds into a tree. 

 

Eva grabs Anders by the hand and shouts, “Come on!” 

 

Together the two run into the relative safety of the forest.

 

—————

 

The mercenary turns to Dawn, furious with her interference. He draws his sword but before he has the chance to swing, they are both set upon by the remaining dwarves. John, however, is set on destroying Colin. They lock eyes from across the way, then Colin suddenly turns and gallops after Anders into the trees. John runs after him.

 

Meanwhile Dawn is attempting to fend off the furious dwarf attack. After a well placed boot in Derrick’s chest, she rides off in pursuit of Anders. The mercenary sees this but is too busy defending himself against Ty and Axl to give chase. 

 

—————

 

The shadow of death is quickly spreading through the once Enchanted Forest. Eva is running and dragging Anders behind her. Dawn spots them up ahead and through the trees. She rides faster.

 

—————

 

John is chasing after Colin. All around him the light in the forest is quickly fading. He is following the sound of hooves thudding against the forest floor when they suddenly stop. He pauses, too, notching an arrow in his own bow, peering into the gloom and silently listening. It is a tense silence. Then there is a sudden noise. John spins around quickly, ready to fire his arrow, but all he sees is Colin’s horse, riderless and galloping past. Too late he realizes that it is but a trick. Colin bursts out of the darkness, swinging his sword at the Huntsman's head. 

 

—————

 

Ty and Axl leap up at one of the mercenaries, attempting to drag him off his horse. But the man is a vicious fighter, and is driving both of the dwarves back. They hold their ground, though, not willing to be defeated by a man of all things. 

 

—————

 

Dawn spots Anders just ahead, but he disappears into the trees. She rides faster, hoping to catch up with him and help him to safety. Anders emerges from behind a tree suddenly and pulls Dawn from her horse. Eva rushes over, axe raised above her head.

 

“Eva, no!” Anders shouts quickly, holding his palm up to thwart the young dwarf maiden and locking eyes with the blonde woman in front of him. 

 

Eva freezes, her axe mere inches from Dawn’s bewildered face. Anders recognizes the young shield-maiden, staring at her in surprise. 

 

“I saw you at the village,” he says to her. 

 

Dawn looks up at him, out of breath and full of adrenaline. 

 

“You did. It’s me, Anders. It’s Dawn!” she beseeches him to remember. 

 

Anders can only stare back in utter disbelief. Tears begin welling in his eyes at the memories that seeing Dawn’s face brings forth. Eva looks on, even more confused than she was previously, lowering her axe. Dawn slowly rises to her feet, gazing back at her childhood friend, when suddenly they hear a twig snap. Eva hears it, too, and the three of them spin around to find the source of the noise.

 

It’s the mercenary whom Dawn attacked in Anders’ defense. He has his arrow notched in his bow.

 

“Prince Anders!” Eva yells as she launches herself at Anders, taking the arrow meant for him. 

 

Before the mercenary has the chance to notch yet another arrow, Dawn fires her own at him, striking him directly in the chest. The man topples over and off his horse, dead before he even hits the ground. 

 

Anders falls to his knees and cradles the dying Eva in his arms. She smiles weakly up at him and whispers, “I shan’t leave you, sir.”

 

—————

 

John charges Colin, bellowing with rage. Colin deflects the blow aimed at him and hurls the Huntsman back into the trees. John is driven by fury and charges again, but Colin is using the brunet’s anger against him. He ducks under the blow and lands a brutal one of his own. Once again John crashes into a tree, eyes full of hatred but body almost too weak and tired to move. Colin smirks at him from the safety of a few yards away.

 

“I have captured many girls, but your beloved wife was special,” he says, a cruel smile curling his lips. 

 

John stares at him, a mixture of confusion and fury washing across his face. “What did you say?”

 

“She fought, and then she begged for her life. You should know that she called for you before she died. Your darling Josie.”

 

“How do you know her name?!” John’s eyes are wide and shiny with tears now. 

 

“Oh, she told me. Right before I slit her throat like a pig,” Colin says idly, studying his fingernails. 

 

“You bastard.”

 

But through the sheen of tears, John notices a fallen tree trunk directly behind Colin. Dead branches jutting upwards like spikes in the air give him an idea. Colin steps towards him now.

 

“Now you can look for her in the next world and beg her for forgiveness,” Colin laughs. He smiles and raises his sword, ready to deliver a fatal blow to the Huntsman, but John lunges at him. His momentum carries the two of them into the spiked branches of the dead tree. The branches pierce Colin’s body, the tips dig into John’s flesh as well. The Queen’s brother howls in agony and writhes, fighting to pull himself free. But John holds him down with all his strength, forcing his wounds to stay open so they cannot heal magically. 

 

“Sister—heal me!” Colin begs aloud, through their bond. The magical energy swirls around his wounds, but it does nothing to heal them as the branches are forcing them to stay open. 

 

—————

 

Michele looks small and alone in the vastness of the chamber she sits in. She is staring off into space, a quill hanging limply from her hand and parchments scattered before her. She suddenly convulses, the bottle of black ink near her spills, its dark contents seep across the papers and onto the floor.

 

“Colin! No!” She falls to the floor, thrashing against the inner pain. She fights hard but she begins to weaken. Her power fades as she slowly begins to age. Then she stops, her head held tightly between her hands. 

 

“Forgive me, my brother,” she whispers, tears spilling down her once smooth cheeks. 

 

—————

 

Colin gasps as he feels his sister cut him off from her power. He reacts in horror and heartbreak as his wounds are no longer attempting to heal, crying out his betrayal and pain. 

 

“Sister…” he twitches and looks to John. “I feel…” 

 

Then the light fades from his eyes, and he is finally dead. John pulls himself free from the branches, leaving Colin’s body to dangle lifelessly from the tree. 

 

—————

 

Michele has reluctantly broken her connection with her brother. Her head hangs low in defeat. Ink is pooling around her bony and pale hands and she watches it for a moment, forlorn and lost. She eventually raises her head, and there is conviction, hatred, and determination in her gaze. 

 

“You will pay,” she promises through clenched teeth. “YOU WILL PAY!”

 

—————

 

John is still bleeding from his own wounds as he quickly makes his way through the forest and to Anders. He sees the blond and the dwarves gathered around Eva’s body, chanting a prayer to the wind. John watches on sadly, then notices Dawn. 

 

“Who is this?” he asks distrustfully.

 

Mike is about to reply, but then Dawn answers for herself. “My name is Dawn, and I am the daughter of Lord Evans.” She pauses for a moment, then says, “You look familiar…”

 

John hurriedly changes the subject. “And what is Lord Evan’s daughter doing riding with the Queen’s men and brother?”

 

“I was looking for Prince Anders.”

 

“Why?”

 

“In order to protect him,” Dawn answers.

 

“The Prince is well protected as you can see,” John says haughtily. 

 

“And just who are you?” Dawn crosses her arms, glaring back at the Huntsman with equal ferocity. 

 

“The man who got him this far, my lady.”

 

“As grateful as I am for your help, I think I can take things from here. Anders will come with me.”

 

“Don’t give me orders, girl,” John sneers at her. 

 

She draws her sword in indignation and John also draws his axe. 

 

“Anyone can draw steel, sweetheart,” he says to her. “But it takes a warrior to use it.”

 

“Leave her, John,” Anders says before Dawn can react. “She is our friend.”

 

John looks at the blond man, his eyes glistening with tears as he mourns Eva. The prayer chant of the dwarves ends and Derrick stalks away angrily. 

 

“We need to convene,” the dwarf says. His comrades follow him a short distance away where they can have their privacy. 

 

“What is it, Derrick?” Mike asks, folding his arms. 

 

“This right here is exactly what happens when we dwarves get ourselves mixed up with men,” he spits angrily. “We always come out worse. We have big hearts and are ready to fight for any cause, but I ask you, to what avail? For some new King to call us runts and turn us out of our homes yet again?”

 

“I have nothing against the Prince,” Zeb pipes up. “But I am not willing to risk my life for him, like poor Eva.”

 

Mike considers all this quietly, and he can tell the others do, too. 

 

Axl whispers softly to Ty, “Does this mean we’re not fighting the Queen now?”

 

“I’m not sure yet,” Ty whispers back. 

 

“And what about the gold promised to us?” Suzie asks. 

 

“What use is gold if you’re hanging by your pretty neck, you rabbit lover?” Derrick bellows at her. 

 

“Agreed,” Mike finally speaks, breaking the tension in the group. “The Queen will most certainly flay us alive for helping him.”

 

“The White Hart has blessed him, or did you forget?” Olaf says and he looks each of his companions in the eye. Derrick rolls his eyes at him, but Mike listens. “Even our own legends speak of the one who will heal the land.”

 

“You mean Anders?” Zeb asks. 

 

“Yes, I am speaking of Anders. Warriors and commoners alike have tried to defeat the Queen, so why not him?” 

 

The rest of the dwarves stare at Olaf incredulously. 

 

“Eva lost her life because of him!” Derrick shouts at him.

 

“No, you are wrong. She gave her life for him. As will I if need be. Look at us, look at what we’ve become, my friends.” They do, knowing what is coming next. “Where we were once proud, now we must pilfer and drink and dream of a time when we didn’t need to. I, for one, am willing to lay down my life for a chance at becoming the dwarf I used to be.”

 

Suzie rests her head on father’s shoulder, smiling up at him in agreement. Mike and Ty glance at each other and nod. Zeb turns to Axl, confusion clear in his eyes, but Axl can only shrug.

 

—————

 

Suzie sings a dwarvish melody of loss as Eva is laid on the lovingly constructed funeral pyre. All around them, the bright colors of the Enchanted Forest have dimmed. There are no animals and fairies to be seen. It is as if Michele’s shadow has passed here, too, and taken with it everything good and beautiful and pure. The dwarves all shed tears over Eva, even tough Derrick. Anders watches on, heartbroken, as Mike lights the pyre. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter nine should be posted within two or three days if all goes well. As always, you can come chat with my on tumblr! Find me at sionnach-alainn. I'm honestly too lazy to embed the link so just looke me up! (:


	9. In His Grief

The small ragtag group makes their way across barren hills and into the mountains, the dwarven mourning song still echoing in their hearts. Dawn is walking beside Anders, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye every so often. She waits until the others are too far to eavesdrop. 

 

“I’m sorry,” she says. When Anders turns and gives her a look full of confusion, she adds, “That I left you.”

 

Anders can see the remorse in her eyes. “You didn’t,” he reassures her. 

 

“I would have come sooner if I had known.”

 

“We were but children, Dawn. And you are here now, that’s all that matters to me,” Anders gives her arm a soft squeeze. 

 

The group reaches a patch of steep rocks that look difficult to climb. John turns to Anders and offers the blond his hand. Anders takes it gratefully and John helps him up the slope and back to less treacherous ground. Dawn watches this, an unknown emotion she can’t quite place welling up in her chest. She follows after them.

 

Mike is behind Axl and Ty as the three make their way up the rocks. Once they reach the summit, Mike turns and stares at the surrounding peaks. “We should rest at the top of this hill tonight.”

 

The others nod in agreement and set about getting camp ready.

 

—————

 

Michele stands in the center of her Mirror Chamber. She is surrounded by dozens and dozens of ravens, her faithful servants. They flutter in the air around her and perch on the windowsills nearby, all staring at her intently. She raises her arms above her head, and they all take flight, circling above her in a black mass. Michele then lowers her arms and they lower, too, encasing her body within. 

 

She has become one with them, and they with her. 

 

—————

 

A fire is crackling merrily in the center of the camp the dwarves have hastily set up. Ty and Axl sit together on the rocky outcrop a few paces away, sharpening their weapons and muttering amongst themselves. 

 

“That isn’t how you sharpen an axe,” Ty says to Axl. “You sharpen downwards, not up.”

 

“My father taught me how to sharpen an axe, thank you very much,” Axl replies curtly. 

 

“Well, he taught you wrong, dunderhead.”

 

Axl raises his axe up. “Wanna test it then?” he jokes.

 

Back in the center of the camp, Dawn is watching Anders warm his hands by the fire. She pulls herself to her feet and heads over to where John is sitting, keeping watch. “It wasn’t my place to give you orders. I feel I may have misjudged you, Huntsman” she says to him.

 

John looks up and her and nods. “Perhaps I have done the same with you.” That’s as much of an apology or an admittance of guilt Dawn is likely to get from him and she knows it.

 

She looks over at Anders now. “We shared our childhood together, before he was stolen from us,” she says sadly. “He hasn’t changed, not really. He still has that same light inside his soul. You must be able to see it as well.”

 

“You’d have to be blind not to,” John tells the woman. 

 

“All we have to do is get him back to Anseo safely. The people will see it, too, I know they will. He’s our only hope.”

 

“We’ll get him to the castle alive and whole,” he promises Dawn. “So don’t worry about it.”

 

“I have thought about him consistently over the years, wondering what had happened to him, if he felt any pain when he died. So you have no idea just how relieved I am to see him alive once more. I can hardly believe that I have found him again.” Dawn’s eyes are misting over with tears, tears of joy and relief, and of sorrow and regrets. 

 

“Tell him that. He’d appreciate it,” John gestures in Anders’ direction. 

 

“I’m afraid to,” Dawn says softly. 

 

“It is a lot worse to live with regret, shield-maiden. You should tell him.”

 

—————

 

Anders is sitting on a large rock on the outskirts of the camp, reflecting on all that has happened recently. He is staring at the scenery when he suddenly senses a presence at his back. He jolts and quickly turns in alarm, but it is only Dawn. She holds her hands up in a universal gesture of peace and smiles at him. 

 

“Walk with me?” she asks. He nods and gets up and they walk together, further away from camp.

 

“It’s almost as if nothing has changed up here,” Anders says after a few minutes of silence. “The world looks beautiful and pure again.”

 

“It all will be, once you are King,” Dawn tells him, pride and determination clear in her voice. Anders looks stunned by her words. “The people of this realm despise Michele with everything they are. She is a poison and she has festered in our wounds for far too long.”

 

“This may sound strange to you, but I feel only sorrow for her,” Anders says softly. 

 

Dawn is visibly taken aback by this admission but continues. “Once people hear that you are still alive they will rise up in your name, Anders.”

 

“It will take more than just a name for I am not my father, Dawn.”

 

“But you are his son!” Dawn insists. “And rightful heir to the throne and kingdom!” Dawn steps closer to her childhood friend and stares at him in utter devotion. “I would take you far away from here if the choice was mine to make. I would keep you safe and never leave you again. But I have a duty, as do you.”

 

The two hold each other’s gaze. Anders is still full of self-doubt and fear. “How do I inspire? How do I lead?”

 

Dawn chuckles at this. “The same way you led me when we were just children. I followed you everywhere if you didn’t notice.” She lightly punches him in the arm in a friendly manner to reiterate her point. “When you called, I ran. I would have done anything for you, and still would.”

 

Anders is touched by her declaration and he smiles softly at her. “That isn’t quite how I remember it.”

 

“How do you remember it then?”

 

“We were always arguing and fighting,” he replies. 

 

Dawn tilts her head and gazes at him for a moment. For some reason Anders feels uncomfortable under her scrutiny now. Then she reaches into the pocket of her cloak and pulls something out. In her hand is an apple, and Anders can’t help but smile when he sees it. 

 

With a mischievous smile on her own face, Dawn holds the apple out to him, just like when they were children.

 

“I remember this trick. But I think I was on the other side of it,” Anders smirks. 

 

Dawn feigns innocence. “What trick, dear Anders?”

 

Anders locks eyes with her, then snatches the apple out of her hand before she can pull away. He raises the juicy red apple to his lips, taking a bite. 

 

—————

 

John startles awake, sweaty and afraid. He looks around hurriedly, but there is no sight of Anders. Everyone else is accounted for, but not the Prince. Fear is raging in his heart as he stumbles to his feet, making his way to Dawn and shaking her awake. She jolts, but is prepared for anything, and the two quickly make their way to the tree line. 

 

—————

 

As Anders chews, he notices a small flicker of a nasty smile cross Dawn’s pretty face. He stares at her, curious, but then suddenly gasps. He is struggling to breathe, coughing and hacking. He staggers back and collapses into the freshly fallen snow, all the while choking from poison. Anders’ eyes are watering and his vision is growing hazy and blurry. The one who is not Dawn kneels down next to him, and slowly her features peel back and burn away to reveal Michele’s face. Her eyes are gleaming in triumph. 

 

Then a loud, shrieking sound rents the air, and it isn’t Anders. It comes from dozens of ravens in the sky above. 

 

—————

 

Dawn and John hear the horrible cries and run, smashing their way through the trees and jumping over roots and rocks alike. 

 

—————

 

Anders is lying limply in the snow, his limbs paralyzed and frost coating his cheeks. His eyes, however, are open and he is still somewhat coherent. 

 

“Don’t you see, sweet child, love always betrays us,” Michele practically coos at him. “By fairest blood it was done and only by fairest blood can it be undone. You were the only one, did you know that? You could’ve broken the spell and ended my life. You were the only one pure enough to save me, dear Prince.” She pulls away slightly and unwraps her sacramental dagger, the same one she used to kill the King so many years ago. “You are so lucky, never knowing what it is to grow old and weak and feeble.” 

 

As she raises the dagger, preparing to cut out Anders’ heart, her body shatters into a flock of shrieking ravens. 

 

John is there, his axe held tightly in his fists and the ravens flapping angrily around him. Dawn swings her sword at the screeching birds. The Huntsman and the shield-maiden fight together, slashing at the birds, attempting to clear them away from Anders. Eventually the ravens fall back and fly high into the sky, vanishing over the horizon. 

 

Both Dawn and John rush to the Prince’s side. The dwarves were woken by the ruckus and have appeared not too far away, rushing through the snow. Dawn is cradling Anders in her arms, trying to revive him. It’s no use though. John can only watch in dismay as the poison drains the color from Anders’ pouty lips. He gazes at the blond, brushing his knuckles gently across his cheek. 

 

Dawn swiftly turns to the dwarves and begs. “Help him! Help him please!” The dwarves simply stare at her sadly. “You are dwarves! Healers! Please save him!” She grabs Olaf and shakes him. “Do something for him!”

 

Olaf’s eyes glisten with tears as he hangs his head in sorrow. Dawn collapses in on herself, fervently praying for this to not be the end. 

 

The light in Anders’ eyes is nearly gone. John looks over at the blonde woman, her grief as great as his own. Then the light in Anders’ eyes vanishes completely, leaving those around him heartbroken and grieving. Dawn sobs and curses at the sky, at Michele. A tear tracks down John’s face. Anders is gone, he is truly gone.

 

“What do we do?” Zeb asks sadly. 

 

“What we promised,” Mike says. “We take him to Anseo.”

 

—————

 

The flock of ravens burst into the chamber of the Mirror Room and crash into the floor. They writhe and convulse and eventually devolve back into Michele’s human form. She is on all floors, hunched over, looking pale and sick and surrounded by dead ravens. She snarls and crawls slowly and clumsily toward the mirror.

 

“What must I do?!” she shouts at the large silver disc. “Where is he now? ANSWER ME!”

 

But the Mirror Man doesn’t form; instead, the silver reflects Michele’s aged and weary face. She releases an angry and drawn out shout. After struggling to breathe for a moment, she looks back up and quietly pleads with the mirror. “Help me,” the queen begs. 

 

“‘Help me?’” the Mirror Man mocks her. “Groveling desperation; how pathetic. You disgust me, my Queen.”

 

Then the mirror begins to ripple, distorting Michele’s face into something even more disturbing and awful.

 

—————

 

The dwarves and John take turns carrying Anders’ body to Anseo. They are still mourning the loss of their friend, their only hope, so the trip takes longer as they trudge up hills and over plains. 

 

Once at the stronghold, Anders’ body is wrapped in a white shroud, laid gently on a funeral board. There are tears in Dawn’s eyes as she leads the bearers and John and the dwarves to the hall where Anders’ body will rest peacefully until they can bury him. John is lost in his grief, tears misting in his eyes and clouding his vision. 

 

Crowds have moved in to view and mourn Anders’ funeral procession. John keeps his eyes lowered, hoping no one will recognize him. 

 

Torchlight flickers in the chamber, casting dark shadows about the walls. Anders’ body is resting on a beautiful marble slab that is a few feet tall. His face is serene and lovely in death. John gently strokes the back of his fingers down Anders’ cheek, moving a stray piece of hair from his face in the process. His gaze lingers on the Prince’s face for a few moments, attempting to memorize every line and curve and detail. 

 

John knows he will miss Anders more than he ever thought he would, and that scares and saddens him at the same time. 

 

————

 

The heavy door to the council chamber slams open and Dawn is silhouetted in the doorway. Lord Evans is in the chamber along with the other lords, arguing passionately amongst themselves, but they pause upon Dawn's noisy entrance.

 

“He died for us!” she shouted. “For our cause! We cannot hide behind Anseo’s walls like a bunch of sheep and watch everyone and everything die along with him!”

 

“Dawn, my dearest daughter, your grief is clouding your judgement right now,” Lord Evans tries to placate his daughter. 

 

“No. That is where you are wrong, father. My grief makes me see things far more clearly than I did before.”

 

—————

 

Night has fallen over the castle grounds. John is still in the funeral chamber with Anders’ body as he can’t seem to leave the Prince alone, even though he knows he is gone. His flask is in hand, and he is drunk off ale and grief. He steps out from the shadows and up to Anders’ body.

 

“And here you are,” he slurs at the lifeless Prince. “This is where it ends for you, for me. For us. Dressed up so nice for once.” He takes another swig from his flask. “It’s like you’re just asleep, ready to wake up any moment and give me hell.”

 

The Huntsman touches the blond’s arm and feels the smooth fabric of his funeral tunic under his hand. John can feel the coldness of Anders’ skin seeping through the tunic and it causes his breath to hitch in his chest. He looks back up to Anders’ face and feels his own crumple once more.

 

“You deserved better than this,” John whispers sadly. He stands there, rooted to his spot, mulling things over in his head. He decides it is time he finally answers Anders question from their time in the Dark Forest. “She was my wife,and her name was Josie. That’s what you wanted to know, isn’t it? When I came home from the wars I was a changed man. I carried with me the souls of the damned that I had killed and their anger with me. I wasn’t worth saving, but she did so anyway. I loved her, more than anyone or anything. And then I let her out of my sight and lost her. With her gone I became myself again, someone I never cared for. Until you,” he chokes back a sob. “You remind me of her, Anders. Her heart and her spirit. But now you are gone, too. Both of you deserved better, and I am sorry that I failed you the way I failed her.”

 

Anders lies pale and motionless on the marble funeral slab. John cups his face in his broad hand, tears finally tracking down his cheeks, falling onto Anders’ still face. 

 

“You will be a King in heaven now,” he says. Then John leans down and kisses the blond’s lips. “And you will sit among the angels, darlin’.”

 

Then he turns on his heel and exits the chamber, throwing his flask behind him in disgust. 

 

But if he had only stayed just a few seconds longer, the Huntsman would have borne witness to a miracle. Anders’ lips part ever so slightly, and he lets out a whisper of a breath. His eyes open, seeing nothing but the ceiling as his mind wanders. He feels strangely calm for someone who was brought back from death. But he knows what he must do now, and he accepts his task. 

 

Anders must kill the Queen. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't guarantee when the next chapter will be out. I'm going through some personal issues right now and writing is the last thing on my mind. Hopefully I can sort my thoughts out soon and get the next chapter rolling.


	10. A Miracle in Chainmail

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is dedicated to islandkate who has been a most excellent cheerleader throughout this story and most of my other ones as well. Thank you so much for all your lovely comments! Anders and Mitchell love you for it, and so do I. (;

John is striding toward the gate of Anseo, gear packed and slung across his back. He keeps his eyes down as he tries to make his escape of the memory of the beautiful blond Prince. 

 

“Open the gate,” he says to the guard, voice devoid of all emotion.

 

“Huntsman!” someone calls out to him from the courtyard. He freezes, he’s been recognized. 

 

He’s done many not so good deeds throughout his life and he doesn’t wish to be reminded of them. Not here, not now. Not after knowing Anders who unwittingly brought out the decency in him the same way his beloved Josie did. 

 

“Yes, I recognized you,” the man says when he notices John’s uneasy look. The man is shorter than him with cropped dusty brown hair and green eyes. His nose is long and slightly crooked, like he’d been in one too many tavern brawls. 

 

“We don’t have a quarrel with you, Huntsman. Not anymore at least,” the man tells him. “You brought the Prince back to us, and for that we will be forever grateful.” 

 

The man then hands John a heavy sack of gold, which he takes hesitantly. He weighs it in his hand for a moment. He needs this money, his friends need this money, but he doesn’t have the heart to take it. 

 

“Keep it,” he says as he hands it back to the man. He turns back around to the now open gate and walks out of the castle stronghold. Just as the gate is closing, cheers erupt behind him. John stops, curious, and turns his head to see what the commotion is all about.

 

—————

 

Back in the council chambers, the session continues. Lord Evans is staring at his daughter with a somber expression.

 

“It is my duty to protect the people that have come to Anseo for help. I will defend them to my death, but I will not abandon this castle. I can’t afford to believe in miracles, Dawn.”

 

Before Dawn can reply, they are interrupted as the shouting from outside penetrates through the door. Lord Evans races out of the chamber to see what all the fuss is about, Dawn hot on his heels. To their utter shock and amazement, they see Anders. He is still dressed in his white funeral attire and is standing at the top of the stairs that leads down to the courtyard. 

 

The people who looked to Lord Evans for sanctuary are streaming out of their tents and standing in the courtyard, staring up at Anders. His heart is thumping loudly in his ears as he descends the stone steps. All are spellbound by the mere sight of the Prince, as if they are gazing upon a living miracle.

 

John has made his way back inside the castle walls and he, too, is mesmerized by the sight before him as he rejoins the dwarves in the crowd of onlookers. 

 

“It’s a miracle,” Mike whispers, eyes wide in astonishment. 

 

Lord Evans quickly moves up the stairs to greet Anders despite the fact that he is still more than a little stunned to see the Prince alive and well where just hours before he was cold with death. Several of his generals follow him, but they stay a few paces behind when Lord Evans takes Anders by the hands. 

 

“Your Highness,” he says, dumbfounded. “We thought that you—“

 

“No, my Lord,” Anders cuts him off. 

 

Dawn stares at Anders in utter joy from below the stairs as her father still looks at him, dazed and unable to string a coherent sentence together due to his shock. 

 

“But you must rest!” Lord Evans insists. 

 

“I think that I have rested long enough,” Anders' voice is gentle, yet full of determination. “I am ready to ride at your side when we face the Queen in battle, my Lord.”

 

Lord Evans looks speechless for a moment, but he shakes his head sadly. “No, your Highness. There will be no battle. The best thing for you and your people is for you to stay safe here in Anseo.”

 

“That is exactly what I was hoping to do when I had first escaped from the Queen, however, I have come to see that there is no peace for me while others are suffering. Have you not learned this as well?” Anders asks him. 

 

“But the Queen cannot be defeated!” Lord Evans protests. “She can’t be killed, we all know that. Therefore there can be no victory without her demise.”

 

Anders hesitates but a moment. “I can. I can defeat her. She told me when she thought I was dying that I am the only one who can end her.” Lord Evans tries to object but Anders pulls away from him and continues down the stairs and to his people. When he reaches the final step, he speaks. “I have been told that I represent you and that it is my job to motivate and encourage you all. But I fear that is wrong, for I am not a King, a leader, or even a warrior.” Silence has fallen throughout the courtyard as every person there hangs on to Anders’ every word, captivated. “It is _you_ who represent me, who I have become. Your hopes and dreams, your courage, your will; that is what inspires me.”

 

Anders stops for a moment and looks out at the crowd, looking over every person there. He spies John and the dwarves not too far out, and Dawn nearby. He continues, “I have just been told that my place is here and not on the battlefield. I am to stay safely behind these walls, but I tell you that I will not. I have lost my fear of death in the time since my escape and I hold life sacred, especially since I have tasted freedom once more.”

 

People are nodding, and murmuring in approval at Anders’ speech. He knows that he has them in the palm of his hand, that he is igniting the fire that exists in all their hearts. 

 

“If Michele comes for me, I will ride out to meet her. And if she doesn’t, I will still ride to meet her. That I can promise you.” He then looks over at the Generals. “Even alone if I must.” Anders turns back to his people before continuing. “I would gladly give my life for you if you would but join me. This land and its people have lost too much since my father’s demise.”

 

John watches Anders, pride clear in his face. The dwarves, too, look proud of him. Lord Evans stares at him for a beat, then drops to his knee and bows his head. Dawn follows, then all the Lords and the Knights quickly after her. With his eyes fixed on Anders, John bows, too. Then Mike, and Olaf and Suzie, then Ty and Axl. And finally even Zeb and Derrick drop into a bow. 

 

Anders stands tall, overwhelmed with the show of faith from his people, warriors and lords and commoners alike. He can feel the weight of responsibility resting heavily on his shoulders, but he is prepared to bear it like the King his mother knew he could be. 

 

—————

 

Michele sits quietly in her Mirror Chamber, staring at the figure of the Mirror Man.

 

The Mirror Man laughs as her face slowly de-ages once more. “Yes, my Queen!”

 

Her energy is returning. All around her are the bodies of several old ladies, lying on the floor. They were once young and beautiful only minutes before, until Michele sucked the youth out of them. The Queen smiles, readying herself for the inevitable confrontation with the Prince coming on the horizon. 

 

—————

 

Anders’ army is gathered by the gates, prepared to leave and rage war against the Queen. Anders is sitting astride his white horse, decked out in full armor, the chainmail glittering menacingly in the torchlight. He looks like a true warrior, bearing her father’s insignia. John rides up next to him and Anders couldn’t be happier to see the Huntsman.

 

“You’ve defeated death and now you’re instigating the masses,” John quips.

 

“So the lone Huntsman _does_ fight for something other himself,” Anders quirks a brow at his companion. 

 

“Ah, darlin’, only if you have need for a wild soldier such as myself.”

 

Anders smiles bashfully at him, ducking his head slightly to hide his blush. He doesn’t know why, but every time John calls him “darlin’”, his heart skips a beat and his breathing gets all erratic. 

 

John grins at the blond and goes to turn his horse, but before doing so, says, “You look stunning in mail, by the way.”

 

Before Anders can stutter out a response, a bugle sounds and Lord Evans' army pours out of the gate, torches held high to see through the dark of the night. Lord Evans roars loudly, urging his soldiers onwards faster. 

 

—————

 

Michele stands on the large balcony connected to one of the conference chambers in the palace. Next to her stands one of her Generals. Below them soldiers and guards scurry back and forth, attempting to look busy lest they evoke her wrath. They can’t help but notice her aging face, though none mention it for fear of their lives.

 

The General is holding a map out to Michele, but she angrily bats it away. “I do not need a map to see that you have failed me, you idiot! The look on your face is proof enough!”

 

“Yes, my Queen,” the General hastily bows, afraid to look his Queen in the eyes. 

 

“And where are they now?”

 

“About a half day’s march away. But with every hour, their numbers grow. Rebels, peasants, deserters alike rally to them—“

 

Michele whips around to face him. “Deserters?” she asks.

 

“Yes, my Queen. They are saying that the King’s insignia flies once more.”

 

Michele understands now. Prince Anders is truly back from the dead.

 

“Let them come,” she says. “Let them break their bones on these castle walls and bring my prize to me personally. Let them break their hearts when they ultimately fail. But remember, you must not harm him. I need his heart, still warm and fresh with blood.” And with that, Michele strides away from her General. 

 

—————

 

The army thunders across the plains and towards battle. Soon enough they arrive at the sand dunes overlooking the castle. The horses crest the hill and Anders is surrounded by his army. It is no longer just Lord Evans men, it now consists of rebels and peasants and women, too. All are willing to follow their Prince. Both John and Dawn ride nearby, and one of the Lord’s commanders arrives to debrief them. 

 

“My Lord,” he addresses Lord Evans. “There are only a few hours before the tide comes in; not long enough to breach the castle walls. Either we will be completely exposed or drowned by the seas.” 

 

“Is there no other way in? Tunnels or maybe a cave?” Lord Evans asks. 

 

“None that we know of, my Lord,” the commander replies. 

 

Misery descends on the gathering at this, none knowing what to do in wake of the news. Anders, however, has a knowing smile playing about his lips. “If we are at the portcullis when the sun clears the horizon, it will be open,” he says simply. 

 

They all turn and look at him, confusion and curiosity visible in their expressions. 

 

“How?” Lord Evans asks Anders, who only smirks in response. 

 

—————

 

The sounds of oars splashing in the water and lots of grumbling and profanities can be heard over the lapping of the waves. Nearby are the high cliffs, and a small opening rests on a ledge. An unmistakeable brown sludge pours out of it and into the sea. It is a sewage tunnel, the very same sewers that Anders had used to make his escape from the Queen so long before. Peering inside the tunnel are the dwarves. 

 

Derrick wrinkles his nose in disgust. “We were promised gold and volunteer for shit. The dwarven race has sunk lower than rabbits.”

 

“Hi-ho then, lads,” Mike says with false cheer. “Off to work!” And one by one, the dwarves crawl inside the tunnel.

 

—————

 

Michele is once again standing on the balcony, staring out over the castle walls. On the distant cliffs she spies the banners of the rebel army. Anders stands amongst them, lit up like an avenger of heaven when a ray of sunlight streams through the clouds and alights upon him. 

 

“Come to me,” Michele whispers to herself. 

 

—————

 

Ty and Axl wade through the sewage with their axes held above their heads. They are so focused on the task at hand that not a flicker of emotion passes across either of their faces. 

 

“Seven dwarves against an army,” Axl mutters.

 

“I like them odds,” Ty jokes and lightly nudges his companion in the ribs with his elbow. 

 

Behind them are the rest of the dwarves. Mike covers his nose in an attempt to save it from the stench of the sludge. Both Zeb and Derrick look like they’re about to be sick, but are noticeably holding it together just barely. Olaf and Suzie bring up the rear of their little underground squad, the disgusting slime nearly to Suzie’s mouth. She holds her head as high as possible in order to avoid accidentally swallowing any. 

 

“Times like this I wish I were taller,” she says in disgust. 

 

—————

 

Back at the sand dunes where Anders’ army is amassed, the crashing waves break against the rocks off the shore and wash over the sand. Lord Evans is staring at the rising tide in deep concern. 

 

“We don’t have much time,” he says.

 

“You’re right,” Anders nods. “We should start riding now. They’ll have the gates open by the time we arrive.”

 

Lord Evans contemplates this for a moment before raising his sword to signal the army to move on. Anders glances at John, who breaks rank and rides closer to him. There is a tense silence, then Lord Evans brings his sword down and the riders charge down the dunes and towards the castle. 

 

—————

 

Michele watches from her balcony, her posture dripping with confidence. A wicked smile curves her lips, her eyes fixed on Anders’ banner in the distance. 

 

—————

 

Sunrise is glowing on the castle now. In the courtyard a trap door rises slowly. Mike peers out, scanning the courtyard with his keen eyes when he spots the portcullis not too far away. Michele’s guards hurry past without noticing him, taking up their positions upon the battlements with haste. Mike slips quietly back down into the sewer to address his friends.

 

“The gatehouse is just fifty yards away and to the left,” he informs them. “There are roughly half a dozen guards and fifty armed soldiers with archers on either side.”

 

Axl pulls a large knife from his tunic. “Give us a couple of minutes,” he says to Mike.

 

“Four tops,” Ty adds. 

 

—————

 

Anders gallops across the dunes, waves crashing beside him and his army. Michele’s castle is closer in view now and he notices that the gate is still not open. He swallows his doubt and urges his horse on. He turns to his right and looks at John, hoping that when this is over the Huntsman will still be at his side. 

 

—————

 

Axl and Ty move stealthily through the busy courtyard. They are so small and quiet on their feet that are unseen by the men. They both know that there is a lot riding on their mission and they must not fail. Neither wanted to fail Anders, not when he defeated death itself and has the chance to restore the kingdom to its original glory. They pause when a guard runs by particularly close to their hiding space. Axl glances back at Ty, who nods slightly and they sneak out and move forward once more when the path is clear. 

 

—————

 

Michele watches in anticipation as her archers take their positions and the artillery men load cannon balls and gun powder into the large cannons. She couldn’t wait to have Anders in her grasp once more. She would love every moment of ripping his heart out and watching the light fade from his eyes. Then she would devour his heart and finally obtain true immortality and everlasting youth and beauty. 

 

—————

 

Anders notices small pinpricks of light upon the castle walls. John instantly knows what they are and rides harder. The little spots of light soar up into the air, growing larger and brighter with each passing second. They soon show themselves to be fiery missiles, and John forces Anders’ horse out of the path of one as a fireball explodes mere yards from where the blond was moments before.

 

Fire is raining down on the army and panic is spreading through the ranks, especially among the peasants as they have never encountered the like of firepower before. Anders takes his father’s banner and holds it high, rallying the men and riding on despite the current obstacle in their way. 

 

—————

 

Outside the gatehouse in the castle courtyard, two unsuspecting guards collapse to the ground in a tangle of limbs. Ty and Axl are on the other guards before they even have the chance to react. They move quickly and quietly, the assault over in mere seconds. 

 

Bak at the trap door, Mike sees Ty and Axl signal the all clear from outside the gatehouse. 

 

“Come on!” Mike whispers to the rest, and they all slowly and sneakily make their way out of the sewers and to their comrades. 

 

—————

 

Fireballs are continuously exploding in the sand while the waves crash over the rocks upon the shore, creating a cacophony of sound and sending anxiety rushing through Anders’ veins. He can see men falling all around him. Tears begin to well up in his eyes, though to his credit he never falters. As Dawn rides on, she can see the castle walls through the smoke and haze, and notices that the portcullis is still down. She hopes that whatever plan Anders has concocted works and soon, or else the battle will be over before it ever even had the chance to start. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this may not actually reach twenty chapters like I originally anticipated because I've made each chapter so much longer than I planned in the beginning. We aren't at the end quite yet, but will be soon.


	11. The Curse of the Dark Faeries

The door to the gatehouse splinters loudly into many pieces as the dwarves, wearing their fearsome battle masks, come crashing through it. The seven of them fight fiercely and viciously even though they are outnumbered. They quickly subdue their enemies and set up for what needs to be done.

 

—————

 

Upon the castle walls, archers replace the cannon masters. Anders holds up hi shield in order to protect himself from the massive volley of arrows. The portcullis is still down and Lord Evan’s army is forced to circle back as they are trapped against the walls.

 

“You must turn back!” Dawn yells over the sound of horses hooves to Anders. 

 

“I swore I would stand with them and I intend to keep my word, Dawn!” he shouts back. Determination is etched across his face, plain for all to see. Dawn doesn’t like it but she nods anyways. 

 

—————

 

A very large pulley is what controls the movement of the portcullis and the dwarves contemplate the best way to get it to do what they want. Eventually, Mike decides that using their pickaxes would be the quickest way to force the gate open. He, Zeb, and Derrick pull their pickaxes out while Ty and Axl tie up the unconscious guards. 

 

“Let’s get this damn gate open!” Mike says. He lifts his axe over his shoulder and with a mighty blow, shatters the chains that hold the pulley system up. The portcullis shoots up quickly as the counterweights fly downwards, but it suddenly ceases its ascent. 

 

It’s jammed. 

 

—————

 

The guards on the castle walls begin to throw stones and hot oil down on the army below as they continue to circle the gates. Arrows repeatedly bounce off Anders’ shield and yet he still refuses to retreat. He knows what needs to be done and he is determined to see it through, no matter the cost. 

 

Anders looks at what is left of his army, desperate to find John. He finally spots the Huntsman not too far off, riding next to Dawn. They two are attempting a conversation, presumably about how to get out of this mess, as they ride, avoiding the hot oil and stones and arrows that rain down from above. Anders knows that if anything were to happen to John, he’d retreat in a heartbeat. He doesn’t know how or when, but his feelings for the tall curly-haired brunet have grown into something deeper than friendship. 

 

John catches his eye, and after nodding to Dawn, quickly turns his horse to ride beside Anders. “Are you alright?” he asks the blond.

 

The Prince smiles in response, touched by John’s concern for him. “Better now that you’re here,” Anders says. “I feel safer when you’re near.”

 

And now it’s John’s turn to blush. Anders thinks it is very becoming.

 

—————

 

Mike is peering down at the jammed counterweights, grumbling is frustration. He suddenly jolts in surprise when a fierce cry sounds out from behind him. Next thing he knows, Zeb has thrown himself at the counterweight is hanging on tightly, attempting to bring it down. Derrick quickly follows, yelling loudly as he jumps. Axl then puffs out his chest, looking utterly ridiculous, mind you, and leaps, too. 

 

—————

 

Anders can see the portcullis as it shoots up, but what he doesn’t see are the dwarves hanging on to the counterweights for dear life. He smiles in relief, however, and gallops inside the castle walls, John and Dawn hot on his heels.

 

Lord Evans riders charge into the courtyard and the archers fire their arrows at the intruders from every corner of the castle. The rebels leap off their horses and raise their shield, forming a defensive wall of their own.

 

—————

 

Michele watches from her balcony nearby. She watches as her own men are slaughtered. She is enjoying the spectacle as she cares little for the men she calls her guards. Then her eyes lock onto Anders down below. 

 

“Let him come,” she says to herself. “Let him come to me alive and let him leave this world at my hands.”

 

Michele has planned the entire thing out from top to bottom, calculated every move. Her soldiers are simply there to hold off Anders’ army so the Prince may make his way to her unimpeded. 

 

She watches patiently as Anders’ forces cover him from all sides, swords out and shields held high over their heads. They continue to fight as they defend the Prince. But Anders looks up and catches sight of Michele. He breaks free from the defensive shield and runs through the enemy fire and into a side door. 

 

Michele remains calm as she waits for the pretty little Prince. She is not concerned for her soldiers or the situation down below as she turns around and leaves the balcony to the throne room. 

 

—————

 

Anders rushes through the side door and into the castle without a scratch. As soon as he passes through, a dozen of Michele’s men race outside and block the door, closing Michele’s carefully laid trap. 

 

John, Dawn, and their men have to fight through the blockade in order to get to Anders. Michele’s men in the courtyard are losing ground so they have hope that their army will defeat the Queen’s soon so that they may be able to assist Anders in his task. 

 

John swings his sword through the air and it meets with flesh and bone and steal alike. Next to him, Dawn uses her shield as a second weapon as she knocks one of Michele’s men to the ground with it. They continue to fight on and push through. They fight well together, having the same goal in sight. 

 

—————

 

Anders storms his way into the throne room, breathing heavily in anticipation. He is full of fear and anxiety and determination, ready to end things and take his rightful place upon his father’s throne. 

 

Michele is standing at the tope of the stairs, her mirror chamber directly behind her. The raven claw ring she wears tapping against the stone of the wall and resonating throughout the halls. Anders approachers her.

 

“I have come for you, Michele, and I will end you,” he says to her.

 

“My rose has returned,” Michele says mockingly. She glances at Eva’s sword that Anders wears at his side. “And with a thorn this time!”

 

John and Dawn suddenly rush into the throne room, a dozen or so men right behind them. Michele smiles wickedly, raising her hand.

 

“I’ll show you thorns!” she yells. 

 

The room begins to tremble and shake, then the black ceiling starts to shatter into millions of dagger-like shards. Anders turns around to see Dawn, John and Evans men behind him, looking up, just as terrified as he. Then the shards begin to rain from the ceiling, thousands of deadly razor blades. The men attempt to protect themselves but some aren’t quick enough and are run through and fall to the stone fall. Michele watches on, satisfied with the grim outcome. 

 

But that isn’t the end of it. The shards have a mind of their own and they are out for blood. They begin to lift back up and circle around John and Dawn and the rest of the survivors. The shards block the men from getting to Anders, keeping the Prince separate from his would-be saviors. 

 

“Come,” Michele says to Anders. “Avenge your weak father who couldn’t even raise his sword.”

 

The millions of razor sharp shard surrounding John and Dawn and the men start to assemble themselves into three separate seven foot tall creatures, deadly and wicked sharp. These are Michele’s ultimate soldiers, the ones of her own making, known as the Dark Faeries. Anders turns and looks at his best friend and the man he had fallen in love with, surrounded by the Queen’s dark creatures. They won’t be able to help now.

 

The razor blade creatures move lightening fast and John’s attempt at dashing past them and to Anders is easily thwarted. He stumbles back a few steps in order to avoid being run through by one of them. One of the creatures then rises up in front of Dawn, who retaliates by trying to slash at it with her sword, but it goes straight through it instead. The creature reforms itself instantly. The Dark Faerie opens its mouth-like opening and lets out an earsplitting screech. It lifts its arm and smashes Dawn out of its way and to the side. Her shield is the only thing protecting her from its deadly sharp shards. Then the Dark Faerie grabs the soldier that was directly behind Dawn and throws him hard into a wall. The man slides down the stone with a sickening squelching sound and lands on the floor with a thump, dead. 

 

Anders, torn and powerless, looks back at John one last time. He hopes and prays that after all of this over, John will still be alive. The Huntsman catches his eye as he attempts to fight off one of the Dark Faeries with two shields. He knows that there isn’t much time left before the creatures maim them all, but he is also willing to sacrifice his life for Anders.

 

“Go!” John shouts at Anders. “Kill her! Kill the bitch!”

 

Anders straightens up and nods at John, then turns and races up the stairs and into the Mirror Chamber where Michele awaits. Michele has him exactly where she wants him, and the two begin to circle each other, like two predators fighting over territory. 

 

“For ten years you locked me away!” Anders yells.

 

Michele seems perversely happy with this. “And to think that every day, every hour, led you to this exact moment,” she replies. “It burned like a fire inside your soul, it drove you forward, and now here you are, little Prince.”

 

Anders grits his teeth and lunges forward, slashing at the Queen with his sword. But she side steps it with very little effort and throws him across the room. 

 

“That’s it!” Michele taunts him. “Go on and fight! Fight for what is yours by birthright!”

 

Anders slams into the floor and slides a few feet, stopping under the archway at the top of the stairs that lead back down to the throne room. He is dazed and in pain. Suddenly, Michele is there. She steps on his back then grabs him by the hair. She pulls Anders’ head up so he can see John and Dawn and their men being massacred by her dark creatures. 

 

“Watch them die, little Prince. You gave them hope and they stupidly believed in you. But you have only lead them to their deaths. What fools they are,” Michele sneers. 

 

—————

 

John is dodging and blocking the Dark Faeries to the best of his abilities, all the while trying to keep an eye on Dawn. He holds his shield securely in front of himself and rams one of the Dark Faeries into a marble pillar. The stone cracks and crumbles and the Faerie bursts into thousands of shards and reassembles behind John. It grabs the first man unlucky enough to cross its path and throws the poor soul to the other side of the room. On the other side directly in the thrown man’s path is another Faerie. It grabs the man in mid flight and extends it’s razor sharp appendages, clawing the man to death. 

 

It is utter carnage.

 

Dawn herself is being overrun by a massive collective of loose shards. They form themselves into a Dark Faerie and lift her up high, then slamming her down onto a banquet table. The table shatters into splinters and Dawn bounces off it, limp and bruised. 

 

Spinning quickly, the Faerie skewers a soldier and impales yet another one into a wall. It then drags the man upwards by about six or seven feet, it’s sharp claws creating a deep gouge in the stone wall. 

 

—————

 

Angered and horrified, Anders twists himself free of Michele’s grip. He then turns and swings his sword at her, but she parries his every attack with her bare hands. Anders is breathing heavily now and attempts one more strike, but Michele blocks it again. She doesn’t let go this time. 

 

She gets right up into Anders’ face and growls, “You were never ready for this, little boy!”

 

Anders struggles against her, trying to tear his sword from her hands, but she is too strong. The blond twists his wrist and pulls, but to no avail. He is stuck and Michele uses this to her advantage. She twists his wrist even further and he can feel his bones begin to crack from he force. He howls in pain and the sword clatters to the ground. 

 

“I…will…defeat…you,” Anders gasps. “I’m…the only…one…who can.”

 

Michele laughs madly in response and back hands Anders hard enough to send him crashing into the wall behind him. She stalks closer to her prey, slowly, predatorily, until suddenly she is standing in the fire lit in the pit in the center of the room. Michele stands completely unaffected as the fire licks at her ankles and her dress, a frightening smile on her face. To Anders she looks like a demon, full of power and malice in equal measures. 

 

“I have lived many lifetimes,” Michele says. “I have ravaged countless kingdoms and killed more people than you have even met. I was given powers you can’t even imagine. So do not think you can defeat _me_ when you are but a child!”

 

Michele’s skin blisters and heals over and over. She raises her arms once more and black shards gather in a mass on the walls behind her. They entrench Anders and Michele in darkness, closing the trap the Queen has laid out. 

 

“But you are right in one respect,” she smiles. “It is over.” And she laughs, loud and menacingly. 

 

The laughter pierces through Anders’ skin and bones like a knife. He feels so helpless and weak, coughing up blood and fighting off his exhaustion. He doesn’t know what he can do, what he is supposed to do. He tries to stand up but stumbles for a moment, right arm hanging limply at his side and blood dripping down his face from his nose and lips. The Prince stares at Michele, unwilling to back down or give up.

 

He will see this through, and pray that he’s allowed to lay eyes on John one more time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a few more chapters left!


	12. By Fairest Blood it is Undone

Dawn stumbles due to exhausted, panting heavily as she looks around. She notices that shards beginning to obstruct the doorway to the Mirror Chamber and runs towards it. John sees what she is doing and quickly follows after her. One of the Dark Faeries assembles behind Dawn and directly in front of John, but she of course doesn’t see it. The Dark Faerie claws at the shield-maiden from behind and through her armor, sending her flying into one of the nearby stone pillars. 

 

The Dark Faerie then rotates its head around to face John, who halts in his tracks to face it. He braces himself as the creature pulls shards from one of its comrades, doubling itself in size and density. It then unloads a fierce stream of razor-like shards at the Huntsman from one of its appendages. John quickly throws both of his shields up and squats low in an attempt to offset the momentum. But he is slowly pushed back across the floor as the shields begin to shred under the relentless assault of the Dark Faerie. One of the shields finally splinters completely, ripping a gash into John’s arm in the process. With just the one shield left, the Huntsman kneels down and throws the shield up to protect his body from the deadly attack. It is only a matter of minutes, if he is lucky, until his last shield gives way like the first. 

 

—————

 

Michele grabs Anders by the throat and squeezes tightly, causing him to choke. “I refuse to quit,” she grinds out through clenched teeth. “I will give this horrible world the Queen that it deserves!” She then slams Anders onto the stone floor next to the altar where her magic mirror rests. Anders stretches his good arm out for his sword even as Michele unsheathes her own dagger.

 

“A life for a life,” she mutters to herself ironically. 

 

Anders attempts to drag himself closer to his sword when his arm can’t stretch far enough. It is just out of reach when Michele stands over him and straddles his body, her dagger raised high above her head. She smiles wickedly at the Prince, relishing his death at her hands. 

 

John watches, too far away and exhausted to make it to Anders’ side in time, despair wrought across his face. Michele plunges the knife downwards. 

 

“By fairest blood it is done!” she shouts. 

 

Just as the dagger is about to strike Anders’ chest, he blocks it and grabs the dagger from the Queen’s unsuspecting hands and plunges it into Michele’s chest, just as John taught him back in the Dark Forest. Michele gasps, eyes wide and face pale. 

 

“And by fairest blood it is undone,” Anders whispers.

 

Michele looks down, holding the dagger loosely in her hands as blood slowly drips onto Anders’ armor. “NO! This…cannot…be!” she shouts as she pulls the dagger out. Her face begins to age once more, not slowly like before, but far more rapidly. Her body hunches over and gives way, crumpling to the floor below her mirror. Michele glances at the mirror and gasps at the sight before her. She reaches out for it, looking for her only friend, the Mirror Man, hoping he may have a way to prevent her death. 

 

But there is nothing. 

 

The black shards that covered the room shatter and rain down to the floor and around her prone body. 

 

—————

 

Dawn is curled up on the floor of the throne room. She is fatigued and in pain and ready to give up. One of the Dark Faeries is attempting to claw her face with its sharp arm-like appendage, but Dawn is just barely holding it off with her bare hands, causing them to bleed profusely. 

 

The Dark Faeries have begun to slow down drastically and John grabs a sword from the floor nearby and hacks at the Faerie standing in his way. Surprisingly it shatters and turns to ash. 

 

Dawn looks up at John, catching his eye, her own desperately begging for his aid. He locks eyes with her, and nods. He throws his sword with all the strength left in his weary muscles and hits the Dark Faerie threatening Dawn. It, too, shatters and turns to ash upon impact, releasing the blonde in the process. The third and final of the Dark Faeries freezes, and John and Dawn gather themselves before facing it head on. 

 

—————

 

Anders approaches the aging Michele and kneels down beside her. She is weak, aging many years just within seconds. But there is not hate or angry written across her features this time; only a strange understanding.

 

“Why?” Anders asks her. “Why did you do all of this?”

 

Anders, being a sensitive and kind and forgiving soul, is overwhelmed with compassion for the elderly woman dying on the floor in front of him. He places the hand of his good arm on her chest and Michele in turn covers his with her own wrinkled one. She smiles up at him in an affectionate and grandmotherly sort of way as she lightly taps his hand with her bony fingers.

 

Anders looks up as both John and Dawn drag their tired bodies up the stairs from the throne room and enter the Mirror Chamber. They are both exhausted and battered beyond belief, blood staining their armor and tunics. 

 

Michele gazes up at Anders, a halo of light shining above his head from the skylight in the ceiling. “Don’t you see, child?” she croaks. “We are bound together.”

 

The Prince gently strokes her hand as he whispers to her, “It will be okay.”

 

Michele’s reply is incoherent, but there is a peaceful smile across her cracked lips where there used to only be a wicked and malevolent grin. The light begins to fade from Michele’s eyes and soon she is gone. Her beautiful and once enchanting blue eyes remain open in death, forever fixed on the halo of light that surrounds Anders’ head.

 

—————

 

Out in the castle gardens, a small blossom flowers on Dawn and Anders’ favorite apple tree, and with it, the world is reborn again. 

 

—————

 

Days have turned into weeks which has turned into months. The gardens are in bloom once more and color has returned to a world that was bleak and dreary and bleached of happiness for far too long. The Cathedral where his father married Michele all those years ago is packed once more, but this time it is for Anders.

 

It is his coronation day. He sits on the throne at the head of the room, the sun shining beautiful through the large stained glass windows behind him as the crown is placed upon his head. Lord Evans stands nearby and bishops surround the soon-to-be King. Anders smiles as he looks around at all those assembled in the cathedral with him. He sees subjects and friends alike, and people he has come to know love personally. He meets Gaia’s eyes, she is young and pretty once more and her arm is linked with that of another maiden who suffered the same fate as hers, Annie. Anders spots the seven dwarves who all have tears in their eyes and hankies in hand. He sees Dawn off to his right, watching him in adoration. But his eyes continue searching through the crowd in front of him, looking for the one person he wants to see most in the world. 

 

John. He’s in the very back of the cathedral, next to the exit. Their eyes meet and lock, gazing at each other as if they are the only two people in the room. This lasts several moments and probably would have gone on for much longer if Mike hadn’t interrupted. 

 

“Long live the King!” the dwarf shouts. The rest of the room follows suit and soon everyone is chanting Anders’ praise. 

 

John smiles, and turns and leaves. The land was healed, and the rightful King brought about an age of peace and prosperity, just as his mother predicted when he was a bright-eyed child.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This may look like the end, but I plan on adding an epilogue for Anders and Mitchell to find their happily ever after!


	13. A Sneaky Retreat

A few months had passed since Anders’ coronation as King and John has been glum and grumpy ever since. He goes about his daily chores listlessly, ignoring his friends and keeping to himself. George watches as John slowly spirals downwards in his depression, and he thinks he knows the reason why. 

 

John Mitchell had fallen in love with Prince Anders, and when the Prince became King, the Huntsman was no longer needed and subsequently forgotten. 

 

George, his wife Nina, and their friend Annie sat around the kitchen table in the little hut, drinking tea and discussing ways to bring John back from the dark depths of his broken heart. Quietly contemplating their tea, they each waited for inspiration to strike either themselves or one of the others. All three were startled out of their musings by John opening the door and walking into the kitchen. He stopped for a moment and stared at his three friends, surprised to find them all inside instead of doing the daily chores. 

 

“What are you lot up to?” John asked them.

 

“Nothing, absolutely nothing! Why would would you think we are up to anything? Why? What are you up to?” George laughed nervously, his attempts at deflecting John’s line of questioning having failed miserably. 

 

John arched an eyebrow at George’s rambling. “Just finished chopping wood for the fire.” He then walked out back to the water pump to wash his hands. Nina, George, and Annie all sighed sadly, desperately wishing there was something they could do for their lovesick friend. 

 

—————

 

Anders stared out of the window of the throne room listlessly, eyes blank and body slack. Dawn watched him slowly wilt like a dying flower in the autumn, and she wanted nothing more than to bring that spark back to her friend and King’s eyes. She knew what it was about, knew that Anders had fallen for the Huntsman and that said man’s abrupt departure after Anders’ coronation was what had started the King’s sad and lonely downward spiral. 

 

Then John never showed up again, or even written. Anders had held out hope that he would see or at least hear from him again, but it wasn’t meant to be. He went about his duties efficiently as he could, but nothing and no one could seem to pull Anders out of the deep pit of despair he had fallen into. 

 

Why had John left? Was Anders no longer what he wanted? What could he do to make John see that he loved him and was willing to do anything to make this work? These were the questions that haunted not only Anders, but Dawn as well.

 

Even the dwarves were growing concerned for both the King and the Huntsman. They traveled often between the castle and the village to visit both men, attempting to sway one or both of them to give in to their hearts’ desire and longing. Both men, however, proved to be too stubborn for their own good. John insisted that he was nothing but trouble and not good enough for a King, and that Anders should find himself a lovely wife to make his Queen and have children. 

 

Anders also claimed to not be good enough, he was nothing compared to John’s late wife Josie and didn’t want to infringe upon her memory. If John loved him and was ready to move on from her, then why wasn’t he here?

 

The dwarves had no answer for that, as they were just as confused as Anders. Everyone could see that John loved the King, more than they thought it was possible for the reckless Huntsman to love anyone. So why was he staying away when clearly Anders loved him just as much?

 

—————

 

John was angry; with himself and with Anders, but mostly with himself. He didn’t understand how he could have let himself fall so maddeningly in love with the Prince so quickly, nor could he understand why he couldn’t let the now King go. John knew he wasn’t good enough for King Anders, he was but a lowly Huntsman with a less than perfect moral streak and a criminal record. Anders deserved better, deserved the best, and John so obviously wasn’t what was best for the beautiful blond man.

 

Not only was Anders the King of the realm, he was also so innocent and good, and John didn’t want to taint him in any way. He had heard from the dwarves that Anders was suffering without his presence, but he still couldn’t bring himself to give in and go back to the castle. No, he knew what he had to do, and it didn’t involve Anders.

 

John had to leave. For good.

 

He didn’t know yet where he would go, but he would pack the essentials and leave as soon as possible. He would wander for awhile until he found a new place to call home, far from Anders. John knew it was best for not only Anders, but him as well. They could never be together and perhaps putting more of a physical distance between the two of them, they could learn to live without the other and move on. 

 

Yes. John had made his decision. He would leave and soon. 

 

—————

 

Anders had not felt this alone since his imprisonment in the North Tower by Queen Michele. Sure, he had Dawn and her father and all the dwarves and Lords and Ladies, but he didn’t have John. Anders didn’t understand how one man, an immoral Huntsman no less, could have such a profound affect on him. He knew that he loved the curly-haired man, and that said man loved him back, but he didn’t know why John was avoiding him.

 

The dwarves had told him that John refused to visit the castle but that he never gave a reason why. He only said that Anders deserved better than him and left it at that. But Anders didn’t want better, he wanted John Mitchell the Huntsman. He was King now which meant he could be with whomever he wished. Now if only there was a way to convince John that they could be together. 

 

—————

 

A few days after his revelation, John had packed all his meager belongings into his bag and had written Anders a final farewell note. He hadn’t even told his friends of his plans and hoped that they wouldn’t find out until after he had left and was far enough away that they couldn’t catch him. It was late at night and most of the village was asleep as John snuck out of the back door of his hut, leaving only the letters to his friends and Anders behind in the kitchen. He went to the small stable behind his hut and loaded his things onto the back of his large working horse, Seamus. John then mounted and spurred Seamus into a walk. The Huntsman scanned his surroundings and attempted to move as quietly as possible, but he missed the sad brown eyes watching him from behind the stable. 

 

Annie had seen him leave and she wasn’t about to let him go without a fight. She sprinted through the village once John had trotted past. She ran up the path that led to the castle but was stopped at the gate by two guards. 

 

“Please, let me in. I must speak to the King,” Annie said, trying to catch her breath. 

 

“No entry without the King’s permission and he’s asleep,” the guard on the left replied haughtily. 

 

“You don’t understand! I have information I know he’ll want to hear!”

 

“I said, no entry!” the guard barked at her. 

 

Annie was about to protest again when she was interrupted by a newcomer. “What’s going on here?” a stern female voice asked the guards. 

 

Annie looked over and saw a pretty blonde woman dressed more like a warrior than a maiden. Immediately she knew that this person was in fact Dawn, King Anders childhood friend and advisor solely based on John’s description of her. 

 

“This woman claims she has information for the King but she doesn’t have an appointment,” the first guard informed Dawn. “Therefore, no entry!” The last part was clearly directed at Annie. 

 

Dawn turned and looked the other woman up and down for a moment. The brunette fidgeted under Dawn’s scrutiny when she finally addressed her. “What does this important information you have pertain to?”

 

“John Mitchell, the Huntsman,” Annie answered quickly, taking her only chance to see Anders without hesitation.

 

This caught Dawn’s attention and her eyes widened slightly. “What about him?”

 

“He’s leaving, for good. I saw him packing his horse and sneaking off once it was dark. You have to tell the King because John loves him and that’s why he’s leaving!”

 

“Wait,” Dawn said, holding out her hand to stem the flow of Annie’s words. “The Huntsman loves the King?”

 

“Yes!” Annie nodded her head quickly. Why wasn’t anyone understanding the urgency of the situation? “He does and that is why he is leaving!”

 

Dawn pulled herself together and gestured for the brunette to follow her. “Come quickly then. We must inform King Anders before it is too late.”

 

“Finally,” Annie heaved a relieved sigh. “Thank you!” And she jogged after Dawn who was striding past the flummoxed guards and into the courtyard at a fast and unrelenting pace.

 

—————

 

Dawn raced through the courtyard and up multiple flights of stairs inside the castle to reach Anders’ room, Annie hot on her heels. The blonde slid to a halt in front of a set of large, wooden doors, Annie nearly crashing into her from behind. Dawn then began pounding on the doors with both fists and shouting for the King. 

 

“Anders!” she yelled. “Anders, wake up!” She didn’t stop until she heard Anders’ answering groan, signifying that the King had woken up. The blonde shifted impatiently from foot to foot as she waited for Anders to shuffle to the doors and open them. 

 

A sleepy Anders with tousled blond hair and a wrinkled nightshirt greeted the two eager women. “Whassit?” he asked groggily, rubbing his eyes with a fist while attempting to stifle a yawn. 

 

“Anders, this is Annie,” Dawn quickly introduced the two. When Anders didn’t respond, she continued. “She’s a friend of John Mitchell’s.” 

 

That elicited a response from the King. “John?” he asked incredulously, his eyes widening and all pretenses of sleepiness forgotten in the wake of this revelation. “Is there news of him?”

 

Seeing the eagerness on her friend’s face once more urged Dawn on. “Yes, but it isn’t good I’m afraid,” she said sadly. “Annie saw him pack his things and sneak off after dark. He’s leaving, Anders.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so unbelievably sorry that it took me six months to get this chapter out! I hit a massive writer's block and I had a lot going on in my personal life and that took me away from my writing. There is only one more chapter after this, but I can't say when it'll be posted. I just started school again so most of my attention will be dedicated to that and my son. However, it is strictly online so I will manage to squeeze some time in here and there to write the next chapter. I hope you all can forgive me and haven't given up on this story!


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